


If Only In My Dreams

by 20SomethingSuperHeroes



Series: Bucky in Arizona [1]
Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Tree, Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Holidays, Homeless Bucky Barnes, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Memories, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-HYDRA Reveal, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 67,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20SomethingSuperHeroes/pseuds/20SomethingSuperHeroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hillary Tanner has a problem.  She only let Bucky Barnes into her family's home for some food and meant to kick him out after a few minutes.  But then her father offered him a job and a place to stay, and now the former Winter Soldier is spending Christmas with her family.  What's worse, they expect her to make sure nobody finds out, including her friend Steve Rogers and her boss Phil Coulson, because Bucky isn't anywhere near being ready to be found. But perhaps Hillary can still find it in her heart to give Bucky a gift: the gift of her friendship. </p><p>Setting: Eight Months after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. through Thanksgiving and Christmas, also with flashbacks</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only In My Dreams

Hillary Tanner had been transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s field office in Tempe, Arizona, which was all well and fine with her because it was a ten-minute drive away from her home in Mes. After the trauma she had put up with after the Triskelion toppled in April she felt like she needed the break. Then the week before Thanksgiving, Hillary got an email from Agent Phil Coulson saying he wanted to offer her a position as his field assistant, and the job would start the first of the year. She accepted, and he replied saying he wanted to come meet with her the Friday before Thanksgiving to talk it over.

When he entered the field office and shook hands with Hillary, he glanced around at the walls and furniture. “I heard about the break-in. That must have been exciting,” he said as they proceeded down the hall together. 

“Yeah, it was,” Hillary said, holding down a laugh.

“I thought this place was damaged.”

“In a few spots, yes,” said Hillary. “That plant there, in the corner, and the poster, we got those to cover up the worst spots. We might not be able to make full repairs until next year. The rest wasn’t hard to clean up. Just a few broken windows.”

“Ah-ha. And remind me, who was it that broke in?”

“Someone who thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was covering up information about mineral resources near the Grand Canyon. Like they mixed us up with the Department of the Interior or something.”

“They must have been desperate.”

“It was worse than desperation, I think,” Hillary sighed. “We’re still trying to get a date for the hearing.”

The field office briefing room had a plasma-screen and some maps on the walls and none-too-ornate furniture. Hillary and Coulson went in there together. The lights were off, but there was plenty of illumination coming through the large windows.

“You can leave the lights off,” said Coulson as Hillary closed the door. “I don’t need to read you anything.”

“Have a seat,” said Hillary. 

Coulson took the chair at one end of the table while Hillary took the other.

“So how are you liking the field office?”

“Well enough,” said Hillary. “It’s been good to be back with my family for a while, but I’m wanting a change now.”

“Fair enough,” said Coulson. 

“You were Emily’s trainer, right?” she said. “Emily Bridger’s?”

“Oh, yeah,” Coulson seemed startled by the question.

“I didn’t mean to offend you by bringing it up, I just wanted to--”

“It’s all right,” said Coulson. But she noticed that he looked sad.

“How long has it been? Three weeks?”

“Three and a half.”

“Golly. Already? I miss her. I mean, I didn’t know her that well, I just saw her on Facebook a lot, and it’s been unusually quiet there without her. That’s rough, what happened to her. Didn’t the Asgardians say they’d look for her?”

“They haven’t found anything.”

“Terrible. I guess you’re taking me on as a replacement?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Coulson said. He sat up straight and folded his hands on the table. “You’ve been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for almost two years.”

“More like a year and a half.”

“Whatever. You’re well beyond the point of needing a trainer, I think. I was thinking of taking you on more as an assistant or a partner.”

“Okay,” Hillary nodded.

“Your record is most impressive,” said Coulson. “Your supervisor here tells me you were a big help in the break-in last summer and with stopping Hydra's local activity. And you’ve done much to help rebuild the organization in this area since the crisis. Where were you again when the Triskelion collapsed?”

“I was in the field.” 

“That’s what I thought. And what happened to you?”

“One minute I was minding my own business. The next thing you know, all six of my teammates were pointing their guns at me. A good thing four of them actually weren’t Hydra. The two who were, though, they made things hard for the rest of us. Took down the plane we were flying on before we could get out.”

“And you escaped?”

“I went undercover for a little while until I figured out who was still in charge that wasn’t Hydra.”

“Well, my understanding of the situation was you handled the whole thing very well.”

Hillary sniffed. “I guess you could say I did, but I haven’t been as good at hiding my disappointment. That’s why I asked them to send me out here. I looked up to some of those people. I didn’t want to kill them until they didn’t give me a choice. And I almost didn’t get one. Seven months back in the office hasn’t cleared my conscience.”

“Well, Agent Tanner, I think the time has come that we brought more people with conscience to the forefront at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” said Coulson. “Director Hill is stepping down and appointed me to replace her. I am taking the opportunity to begin a new inititave. I am reorganizing S.H.I.E.L.D. to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again. I will be going around restaffing our field offices and teams, making sure none of them are infiltrated, beginning with our ops of highest strategic value. I do not want Hydra playing on our team anymore. No compromises. No mistakes. Is that something you can help me with, Hillary?”

“Believe me, I’m all for it,” said Hillary. “I can point to every single person in this building and tell you that every single one of them is trustworthy. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Coulson smiled. “That’s saying a lot, considering the shady organization S.H.I.E.L.D. has been in the past.”

“I never took that for granted,” said Hillary. “A lot of us did, though, and I think that’s why the Triskelion happened.”

“No mistake about that. So will you accept this job, then? It’ll mean a lot of travel--you won’t get to stay in one place very much. I can promise you at least two weekends home a month if things are slow.”

“Well, it’ll be a change, being able to come home on weekends. Who’s paying the airfare?”

“Stark Industries.”

“Of course,” Hillary nodded. 

“It won’t be first-class.”

“That doesn’t bother me. I’ll take it.”

“Perfect. So you’ll start right after the holidays. You don’t really need much, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Great. I’ll be assembling a team of other agents, maybe they’ll be more or less from similar backgrounds. I want to surround myself with people I can trust.”

“Well, just make sure that you don’t get too far away from the ones you don’t.”

“Point taken.” 

“But how about the Avengers, then?” asked Hillary. “Hasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D. been helping them out recently, with them going all-out after Hydra?”

“Yeah. But they manage to handle most of that by themselves. Tony Stark has been giving them most of their resources. Maria Hill is going to work for him full-time as a consultant. But if they need damage control or leads, we’re usually available. You’ll get your fair share of helping them out.”

Coulson stood up. Hillary rose to shake his hand.

“It was a pleasure to meet with you, sir.”

“You too, Hillary.” They started out for the hallway.

“Do you got any plans for Thanksgiving?”

“I’ve been invited to Stark Tower, actually,” said Phil.

“Oh, have the Avengers been told--”

“Yeah, they found out a short while after the Triskelion incident. It was kind of inevitable, really.”

“Well, have fun with that. You know, I used to be friends kind of with Captain America.”

“Yeah, I saw your pictures on Facebook of that time you went to the mall.”

“Oh, the Throwback Thursday one?” Hillary laughed. She opened the door, but they lingered to talk.

“Yes. Now that my existence isn’t legally classified I’ve gotten a new Facebook account. I’ll send you a friend request.”

“Oh, sure, do that.”

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

“I’m just staying in with my family. My older brother is bringing his family, and Grandma’s coming over for dinner.”

“Well, that’ll be fun,” said Coulson. “Do you have a lot of nieces and nephews?”

“Yeah, haha, just four, going on five. It’s just me and my younger brother who aren’t married yet.”

“Well, maybe that’ll change here in the next while.”

“We’ll see.”

Coulson nodded her farewell, but she interrupted him.

“Oh, there was something I wanted to ask you, I heard that Agent Romanoff and Bridger found Jamie Sneld in Finland. Has there been anything since?”

“I’m afraid we haven’t found anything new on her,” said Coulson gravely.

“Well, keep me posted, if it isn’t above my security clearance.”

“We’re overhauling that system right now, I can keep you posted.”

“All right, you take care, then.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving. And say hi to Rogers for me.”

“Will do.”

Hillary went home, ate dinner, and took a shower. Then she sat down at the piano, because playing music was how she liked to unwind at the end of the day. She was one of the pianists in her church congregation and was playing a special number on Sunday, so she needed the practice anyway. She played on even after her parents had gone to bed, because the piano and the living room were on the opposite side of the house than the bedrooms. 

She was still playing at about nine o’clock at night when she got a notification on her phone. She had been tagged in a Facebook thing by one of her S.H.I.E.L.D. friends, Camri Hawkes. She had known her from after training school but she wasn’t much older than Hillary herself. Hillary decided to take a break from the piano.

The latest Facebook craze was a game of ‘Would You Rather?’ Two facebook friends would chat each other the questions and then post what they would rather do as their Facebook status.

Camri Hawkes: Would you rather only eat hamburgers for the rest of your life or only drink soda?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: I would rather only drink soda. Hamburgers are disgusting

Camri Hawkes: You health nut, you.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Teasing me, are we? Well, here's one. Would you rather be locked in the same room as the deadly assassin known as the Winter Soldier, or be locked in the same room with a hundred tarantulas, no tank?

Camri Hawkes: You know we're not supposed to talk about SHIELD stuff outside of work!

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Technically, the Winter Soldier is defunct

Camri Hawkes: Technically you are playing on both of my worst fears at once

Hillary Morgan Tanner: That's the idea :)

Camri Hawkes: I hate you

Hillary Morgan Tanner: You have to pick one

Camri Hawkes: I'll take the spiders

Hillary Morgan Tanner: LOLOL that many spiders at once?

Camri Hawkes: Trust me, it's better than the alternative

Hillary Morgan Tanner: If he was Captain America's best friend in a former life, how bad can he be?

Camri Hawkes: Easy for you to say. Aren't you afraid of him, too?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Let's put it this way: I'm glad he's not my problem :) 

Camri and Hillary made small talk about Thanksgiving. Hillary made a final jibe about the spiders before telling her good night. 

Camri had had an encounter with the Winter Soldier four years ago. She had watched from a distance as six fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. employees were gunned down to bits. She had avoided field work ever since. The Winter Soldier’s reappearance that previous April had unnerved her, on top of everything else that had happened. Hillary honestly sympathized with Camri, but certainly didn’t see why Camri couldn’t at least poke fun at her problems.

Being one of Steve Rogers’ Facebook friends, she was following the online ‘Save Bucky’ campaign on Facebook out of courtesy, but she was pretty convinced that if the former Winter Soldier wanted to stay hidden, he would stay hidden. Steve and his friend Sam Wilson posted updates on their search occasionally but they were more of a nuisance than anything. The only really big update had come back in October when they found evidence he had spent a month in a homeless shelter in Denver. But of course he was already gone by then.

She went back to the piano and started playing a Girls’ Camp song. She heard the neighbor’s dogs barking but thought nothing of it.

She never shied away from Christmas Music before Thanksgiving. She pulled out sheet music for a favorite arrangement of “The First Noel” and began playing. Then she heard the cat yowling outside. She stopped abruptly.

Hillary opened the screen door to the backyard. It was crisp but not terribly cold outside, normal for that time of year in the East Valley. She heard the family’s cat Mudder yowling and hissing again. There was a sound like boxes being shuffled through, someone moving through boxes and garbage in the garage of the neighbor’s house, then the noise stopped abruptly when the back porch light of the Tanners’ came on.

Mudder came bounding into the house, then stopped just inside the screen door and looked back at the darkness.

“What is it, Mudder?” Hillary asked.

Mudder gave a low moan, and she saw that his long, dark fur was standing on end. Mudder’s back arched and his ears folded back.

“Mudder, it’s okay,” Hillary reprimanded him. “Whatever’s out there won’t bother you.”

Mudder gave a loud groan and ran to his favorite hiding place, under the living room armchair.

Hillary sighed and closed the screen door, and she turned off the porch light. She went back to the piano, thinking maybe she ought to go to bed instead, but instead finish playing through “The First Noel” and then playing “Mary’s Lullaby.”

She was not even halfway through playing “What Child Is This?” when she heard Mudder growling again. She stopped. Mudder was sitting on the arm of the couch nearby and looking out the screen door. Hillary looked at the screen door but saw nothing. She got up and closed the blinds. She finished playing the carol and went to bed, bidding good night to the cantankerous cat. 

The next night, Saturday night, Hillary and her mother were cleaning the house from top to bottom in anticipation of the next week’s holiday, and as they always did they listened to the Original Cast Recording of Les Miserables as they cleaned. They were in the kitchen and “One Day More” was blasting over the speakers when Hillary heard Mudder yowling in the backyard again. The track came to an end, and Hillary paused it. Her mother was scrubbing the sink and did not notice.

Hillary opened the screen door and turned on the porch light. She heard a shuffling like someone getting out of their dumpster in a hurry. Mudder came padding into the house.

“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Tanner asked her daughter.

“I think so,” said Hillary. She turned off the light and closed the screen, and she was careful to pull the blinds over.

No sooner had she returned to turn the music back on, however, than Mudder went back to the blinded door and began hissing at it.

“What is his problem?” Hillary asked.

“What about him?” Jo Tanner asked, looking at the cat.

“I don’t know,” said Hillary. “He was doing this last night.”

Mudder went back and forth from the screen the entire time they were up, growling and hissing at it. Something was clearly upsetting that cat.

The next morning before the Tanners went to church, Hillary took out the garbage. She saw scattered debris surrounding it. There were upturned boxes and mushed plastic bags, and one of the garbage bags was torn open.

She went inside to get her dad and he came out to look at it.

“Well, it wasn’t a raccoon,” Trey Tanner surmised, sizing up the damage. “Had to have been pretty big, so it wasn’t a coyote.” He looked into the dumpster and pulled out an empty box. “Now this is peculiar.”

“What is it?” asked Hillary.

“This was the extra box of fruit snacks we never got around to eating at the garage. Now look. It’s clean empty and folded up. And the wrappers are all outside of it, empty. Someone opened them. Look.” He pointed on the ground. The individual snack bags had been opened from the top and emptied. 

“There’s only two or three of them,” said Hillary, picking one up. “Whoever it was, they took the rest with them.”

“And you say this happened Friday night as well?”

“It did indeed.”

“Interesting. Well, remind me to put the dumpster in the garage before we go to bed tonight.”

“And we should probably bring in Mudder, too.”

Clearly, whatever had been digging through their trash was a human. Hillary asked some of her friends and neighbors at church that day if they had noticed any unusual activity, and four or five people from different homes mentioned someone rooting through their garbage, including the next-door neighbor. It was agreed that it would be wise to inform the police.

The police drove through that neighborhood that night several times but found no one. But before she went to bed, Hillary brought the garbage dumpster into the garage, and in its place, she left a small slice of leftover cheesecake from Sunday dinner, up on the bird bath in the flower bed out front, and left a fork with it.

The next morning she went out to retrieve the plate. If an animal had eaten it, they would have knocked the fork onto the ground and made a mess. But there was not a crumb left of the cheesecake, and the fork had been placed back neatly onto the plate.

That night, she left out a piece of homemade bread. She stayed up to look up some items she wanted to buy online for her family for Christmas. She checked her Facebook briefly before logging off.

Steve Rogers had shared a video to his wall. It was Alfie Boe singing “Bring Him Home” at his Christmas concert with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Steve had captioned it:

Needed to hear this tonight. Come home safe, Bucky, wherever you are.

At the name “Bucky” she rolled her eyes and continued scrolling. But when she closed Facebook finally, she went to the piano and opened her Les Miserables piano book. “Bring Him Home” was stuck in her head, and it wouldn’t leave until she had played it at least once.

When she had played it through, she decided to play, “On My Own.” But she had barely started when Mudder padded into the room and climbed onto the window sill and began to hiss at the blinds. 

“What now?” she griped. She swung her legs around the piano bench to investigate. The birdbath where she had placed the food for their night visitor was just on the other side of the window that was consternating the cat. Hillary opened the blind partway. There was a man standing in the front yard, his shape outlined by the lights from the houses behind him. He was eating the bread, standing over the birdbath like it was a table. Light from the living room illuminated his front, and she got a brief glimpse of his dirty clothes, his frightened eyes. And she thought she saw something on his hand, something silver...

The moment they made eye contact, she dropped the blinds with a shudder. She had half a mind to just let the man mind his own business, but she went ahead and flipped on the porch light and opened the front door. He was gone. She couldn’t even see anyone running down the street.

Mudder growled at her, and she shut the door.

The next day, Coulson sent her an email.

Dear Hillary:

I hope you are enjoying your week off from work. Here is some reading I’d like you to do over the break. I hope it’s not too tedious. Feel free to email me if you have any questions. I’m flying to New York tonight.

Regards,

Coulson

The reading was just regulations for field work and examples of different scenarios. She read a few sections that afternoon before going shopping with her mother for food for the Thanksgiving feast.

That night, while the turkey was thawing, she left out another piece of the homemade bread on the birdbath. When Mudder went to hiss at the window, she tried leaning so she was looking around the blinds at the birdbath without being seen. It was hard to make out who it was, but she thought she could glimpse a bit of metal on his left hand.

After he had gone, Hillary started thinking. 

She got onto Facebook. The ‘Save Bucky’ page had not been updated for a while. He had been seen in Des Moines by a security camera in a travel store three weeks ago. No one had any clear idea of where he was headed or where he had been.

The next day, the day before Thanksgiving, Hillary and her mother started baking pies and casseroles. Her father took the turkey over to her uncle John’s house to be roasted, and that night they left the house for her mother’s family’s annual Turkey Pit Party. Her Aunt Nora had brought a stack of iced sugar cookies decorated to look like turkeys, and Hillary brought home a stack of them. 

When they got home, she helped her mother make pies. After her parents had gone to bed, she made the rolls for Thanksgiving Dinner. Then set out two cookies onto the birdbath. Three cookies she placed on the ground around the house, and she turned on the porch and garage lights to illuminate the bait. Two she put on the back porch in front of the screen door, and the last she placed just outside the screen door.

She pulled out a batch of rolls. They smelled heavenly, and she realized they alone would have been enough to lure her visitor inside, but then again what other tempting smells were in the neighborhood that night? She had cookies.

Putting another batch in and setting the timer, she played the piano. She broke out her Christmas songbook and played “I Wonder as I Wander.” The timer went off. While she waited for the next batch, she played “Whence is that Goodly Fragrance Flowing?”

It was when the third batch of rolls was cooking, when she was playing “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” that it happened. There was a knock on the screen door. The blinds shook. Mudder meowed and ran down the hall to hide in the bedroom.

She got up and opened the blinds. It was him, all right. He kept the left arm tucked in the pocket of his dirty jacket, and the right arm was hanging out because the other pocket was bulging with cookies. His jeans were torn, his facial hair was coming on thick, and his unwashed hair came over his ears from under a dirty baseball cap.

He seemed to be waiting for her to open the door, so she slid it open.

“Can I at least have whatever it is I can smell from in here?” he asked her, trying to restrain himself from pleading.

“First tell me who you are.”

“What?” His face fell. “You’re not--you don’t work for--”

“Yes, I do work for S.H.I.E.L.D. They’re tearing up the country looking for you.”

“Please, don’t turn me in!”

“Why should I even try? If I tried, you would be more than a match for me in a fight. But you must be hungry if you’re desperate enough to come tearing through our trash can for food. I’ll feed you. Then we’ll talk.”

“No, you let me go on my way and just pretend you never saw me. You can have the satisfaction of feeding me.”

“Deal. You want to come inside?”

“Sure.” He shrugged and came in. 

Hillary closed the screen door and the blinds. “I just wanted to see who was raiding our garbage at night. I got suspicious, was all.”

“Well, how did you know it was me?” he said, standing over the steaming pans of rolls.

“I did get a glimpse of your hand the other night,” Hillary said a little sheepishly.

“Oh did you, now?”

“And plus, your face looked familiar. Steve Rogers has blasted your picture all over the internet trying to find you.”

“Really? I don’t know what that means but that’s not surprising. Can I take one?” His good hand hovered over the pan.

“Take one.”

He picked up the biggest roll on the tray and wolfed it down in three bites. The timer for the oven went off, and Hillary got out the last batch.

“Amazing, right?” Hillary said to him. He nodded. “So can I call you Bucky?” she asked him.

“Go ahead,” he said as he tucked into a smaller roll. “It’s grown on me.”

“Funny how that works. I’m Hillary, by the way. Would you like some butter or some jam or some honey with that?” she asked as he began eating a third roll.

“Why would it need anything else?”

“Well, to make it taste even better,” said Hillary. She opened the door to the fridge and got out the homemade strawberry jam and the butter.

“Is it possible that something this good can be better than it already is?” asked Bucky.

“It is,” said Hillary. She go butter knives out of the drawer and a couple of plates from the cupboard. “You want anything to drink?” she asked as she set these down on the kitchen counter.

“Just water is fine,” he said, nodding at the water tank next to the screen door.

Hillary poured a glass of milk from the fridge for herself and got some water for her guest. They sat down on the bar stools, and she began to cut open the rolls and spread the with butter. The rolls steamed as they cut open, and the butter turned to liquid before it even touched the surface.

Bucky watched her for a moment and imitated her.

“We should probably avoid trying to eat too many of these,” said Hillary. “We’re going to eat these tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“How many people are here?”

“Just me and my parents tonight,” said Hillary, “but tomorrow afternoon we’ll have my grandma over and my brother and his family and my sister and her husband. My other brother is out of town. He’s going to see his wife’s family in Utah for Thanksgiving, but he’ll be back for Christmas. I’ve got another brother who’s a missionary in Germany, been gone for a year and a half and won’t be back for another six months.”

“That’s cool,” Bucky nodded. “Sounds like you have a big family.”

“Not as big as some people’s. But how about you, don’t you have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving? I know there’s always the soup kitchen or the homeless shelters downtown, if you can make it to those. We’d be happy to take you there if you wanted.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” said Bucky. “I’ve had enough of homeless shelters for a while.”

“Did the one in Denver not treat you right?”

The way he looked at her she was unsure whether he was embarrassed or angry. “How many people know I was in Denver?”

“Everyone who’s been looking for you,” she shrugged. “But anyway, if you don’t want to do that, I can contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and they can give you back to Captain Rogers, I’m sure he’d be happy to have his best friend home in time for Thanksgiving. Or, you could stay with us. There’s always room for one more, my dad says.”

“Thanks, but no.”

“You don’t realize what’s going on, do you?” she asked him.

“What’s going on, then?”

“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Didn’t they celebrate Thanksgiving back in the forties?”

He gave her a blank stare.

“You’re...having trouble remembering, aren’t you?”

“More or less. But what is this ‘Thanksgiving’ you keep telling me about?”

“It’s a holiday we celebrate to show we’re thankful for what we have, basically,” said Hillary. “Although, it’s been extremely commercialized as the time to shop for the next -- “

“I get it,” Bucky cut her off. 

Something dawned on Hillary. “Well, hey, this would be your first Thanksgiving in a really long time, then, wouldn’t it? I mean, the Winter Soldier didn’t get any holidays, did he?”

“No.”

“There you go. You should be excited. I know I’d be.”

“Not if they’d brainwashed you to forget what it was like to be a normal person.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry. Well, anyway, the offer stands for you to spend Thanksgiving with us. People normally--well, normal people, that is, I mean--”

The light to the hallway came on. “Hillary, are those rolls I smell?” said her father as he came out into the living and dining area. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a dirty white t-shirt, and his hair was messed up. “It smells amazing in here. And judging by the sound of voices in this room, I’d say you’d found somebody to share them with.”  
Hillary was surprised that her dad was taking this so calmly. She was also surprised he hadn’t gotten out his rifle.

She glanced at Bucky. He looked unnerved at his discovery, but not at all inclined to react violently.

“So do you mind introducing me to your friend?” her father asked.

“Not at all,” she shook her head. “Dad, this is Bucky--Barnes, right?” He shrugged. “Bucky, this is my dad, Trey Tanner.”

“How do you do?” Trey said, extending his hand to Bucky.

“Nice to meet you,” said Bucky, shaking it.

“Why don’t we sit on the couch, eh?” Trey gestured to the living room. Bucky got up and sat down on one of the couches. Hillary sat with him, while her father took the armchair.

“So Hillary, tell me, do you know this fellow from somewhere?”

“I've heard of him," said Hillary. 

“Really? Doesn’t look like the type of fellow you’d get to work with every day. What’s his story?”

“Er…” Hillary wasn’t sure how to begin. “Well...show him, Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky said.

“Your arm. Just show him.”

Bucky groaned. “I hate it when people ask me to do this.” He pulled his left hand out of his pocket. He was wearing a thin and ragged glove over it, but he rolled down the sleeve of his jacket a little bit to show Trey the cybernetic arm. Trey gave a quiet, “ooh,” and nodded. Bucky put his hand back in the pocket, but Trey stared at him.

“How far does it go?”

“To my shoulder,” said Bucky. “I lost it in an accident, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Dad, this guy is the one they called the Winter Soldier,” said Hillary. “He was one of the world’s deadliest assassins--if not the most.”

“Right, and what is this deadly assassin doing in my house?”

“That’s where it gets interesting. Last spring, he had a run-in with Captain America. And Cap, well, he thought he bore an uncanny resemblance to an old friend of his. That’s where the ‘Bucky’ comes from.”

“I see,” said Hillary’s father. “And so your career as an assassin had to be cut short because you were beaten by Captain America?”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, sir,” said Bucky. “They brainwashed me, so I couldn’t remember anything. But then I met him--and, well, I just decided I didn’t want to work for them anymore.”

“Them?”

“A secret combination,” said Hillary.

“Ah-ha.”

“Well, I don't know came over me,” said Bucky. “So don’t ask me.”

“So Hillary, tell me,” said Trey, “is this the one who was rooting through our dumpster?”

“I believe so.”

“It’s how I get food,” said Bucky. “I don’t have anywhere to go, or anyone to feed me, so I just feed myself. Scraps. Bits that people don’t want.”

“Well, you’ve caused enough trouble in this neighborhood, my friend. If the neighbors knew it was you they’d be up in arms. Is there any reason I can’t turn him over to the 

“I can handle him,” said Hillary.

There was nothing to worry about, she felt. He would ask to be shown out here in a few minutes and all would be well. She would call Steve tomorrow morning and tell him the good news.

“No,” Bucky spoke up. “I don’t want anyone to handle me.”

“Why not?” asked Trey.

“If you call the police, I’ll just fight them. But hand me over to S.H.I.E.L.D., then they might send someone who can beat me. And if they beat me, they’ll put me back on ice. I can’t let that happen.”

“Bucky, no one at S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to put you on ice,” Hillary explained to him. “Hydra has been exposed, the people who work for them have been sent away, there’s no one left at S.H.I.E.L.D. who wants to hurt you. They just want to find you and help you get back to where you belong.”

“I don’t belong with that Rogers guy,” said Bucky.

“Of course you do! You’re his best friend!”

“Was his best friend. He’s not a part of the life I have now. I don’t need him.”

“Come on, Bucky, just...listen to yourself! Don’t you realize he still cares about you?”

“Don’t you realize it would’ve been better if he’d gone on thinking I was dead?” said Bucky. “I was better off when Captain America wasn’t in the mix. Remembering him cost me whatever security Hydra or whoever was in charge had to give me. You don’t realize what danger I’ve been in, on my own. The Winter Soldier really wasn’t that tough of an assassin, like people make him out to be. I always had backup, people who’d keep an eye on me, men who’d keep my targets pinned under fire while I did the dirty work. People there to give me orders. But being alone…resisting Hydra...To say it’s not been easy would be an understatement. They hurt me. The minute I tried to remember anything, they hurt me. And anyone who’s tried to help me, they’ve gone after them, too. It’s not worth pretending to be someone I’m not, to go back to the life I may have had before.”

“You’re telling me,” Hillary said after she’d had a moment to digest all of this, “that you’d rather wander around for the rest of your life digging through garbage, than let people help you and take care of you?”

“If that’s what’s necessary, yes,” said Bucky. “It’s less than ideal, I know. But I’m better off alone.”

“Dad, can you help me convince this guy that he needs to get a life?”

“Actually, Hillary,” said Trey, “I think if he wants to be alone, we can leave him well alone.”

“You’re kidding,” Hillary said to her father.

“Wow, finally, someone who agrees with me,” Bucky said.

“Hillary, from what you’ve said, it sounds to me like this guy’s had a hard life, he’s been a slave to some really evil people. I think you need to let him make his own decisions.”

“I was worse than a slave, sir, but yes, thank you,” Bucky concurred.

“But, I’m not done. I don’t think digging through garbage is really the best situation for you to be in, my friend. Now, I own a little Automotive Repair garage, fixing cars and things. I’ve been thinking for the past little while, I’d like a little extra help at the garage, an extra set of hands, if you will. I don’t think it really matters if one of those hands is metal, as long as it can do the work as good as the other one.” 

“Um, Dad, what are you doing?” Hillary asked him.

“I’m sampling the rolls.” Trey got up and sampled one of the rolls. He looked at Bucky and Hillary while he ate. “So, I’m making you an offer. You can stay with us, live in m garage, and I can give you employment and three square meals a day. Or, you can go back to roaming through garbage for a living. I can take you out tonight to the side of the highway or the homeless shelter if you want--”

“Dad, he’s already discussed this with me, he doesn’t want to go to any homeless shelters.”

“Well, then he can have a home with us or none at all. Your choice, Bucky.”

“Well, it’s a very generous offer, Mr. Tanner--” Bucky began.

“You can call me Trey.”

“Trey, right, so, it sounds nice, I’d like a job and a place to live. But I’m only going to be here for a short while.”

“How long?”

“Till spring.”

“And then where’re you headed?”

Bucky looked reluctant to speak. “I have...business, elsewhere, when the warm weather returns.”

“Oh, you’re a snowbird, then?”

“Come again?”

“You’ve come down to Phoenix for the winter?”

“I guess.”

“Fine, then. If a temporary job and a place to stay for winter is all you want, I can give it to you. And we can protect you from S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra or anyone else who might be looking for you. You want your privacy, I can give it to you. You have my word.” He sat on his armchair and looked Bucky in the eye.

“But...Dad,” Hillary said, awkwardly breaking the silence, “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. Even if I don’t turn him in, they might find out.”

Mr. Tanner looked at his daughter. “Your job is to help me make S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t find out about him. Or anyone else.”

“What? I could get in huge trouble for that! They could fire me, you know, for hiding someone they’re looking for!”

“He’s friends with Captain America, right? If you do get in trouble--”

“--Captain America will kill me if S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t.”

“Well, Captain America is a different story. I think he’d have the right to know--”

“No, he doesn’t,” Bucky spoke up. Trey and Hillary both looked at him. “I mean it. I don’t want him to find me, I don’t need him to find me. And if you want me to stay here, then I don’t want you to tell him.” He looked a little angry at that moment. “I mean it. If you don’t promise to not tell a soul who’s looking for me that I’m here, then I can’t stay. I’ll go back to rooting in the dumpsters. If you don’t want that--”

“Hillary, he’s being serious,” said Trey. 

“Is that really the worst you can do?” Hillary asked him.

“Trust me, I don’t want to do worse,” said Bucky.

Trey was silent for a minute. Then he said. “Well, then, young man, if you need to keep your distance from Captain America for a while, we’ll help you out.” Trey smiled at him. Bucky only stared at him. Hillary was really reluctant to get on his bad side, but she wasn’t about to go along with him, either. 

“No, dad, we can’t do this,” said Hillary.

“Young lady, we are through with this discussion for tonight. Bucky, you can sleep on the couch for now. We’ll keep you over for dinner tomorrow--not to eat you, I promise--and discuss the arrangements afterward.”

“Well, sir, I really need to get going,” Bucky said, looking at the screen door.

“If you’re not doing Thanksgiving dinner with Captain America you’re doing it with the Tanners. We’ll send you on your way afterward. Unless, of course, you want the job.”

Bucky looked down at the floor for a moment. Then he looked up again. “You know what, I’ll take it.”

“That’s the spirit, man.” He and Bucky shook hands.

“Well, I figured, if I’ve got nothing better to do, I might as well.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose, son.” They stood up.

Hillary groaned and leaned her head back on the couch. “Dad, are you insane? Did we not just have this talk about this guy’s past as a dangerous assassin?”

“I’m sure if he used to be friends with Captain America, then he’s still a good man.” He patted Bucky on the shoulder. “Let me get you some bedding.”

“No, we are NOT taking him in! Dad, if you’d--”

Trey shushed her. “Hillary, sweetie, calm down, you’re mother’s asleep and I’m pretty sure we don’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood.”

“Dad, you listen to me, we can keep him over for dinner tomorrow, but mark my words, it would be better if we sent him straight out with some leftovers as soon as it’s over. Boom, gone. He is not my problem!”

“Of course he’s not your problem, dear,” said her father, “he’s my problem. And you remember that.”

“I’m going to bed,” Hillary said, almost spitting, “and when I wake up in the morning I want him to be gone, you hear?”

“Not a chance of that, sweetie.” 

Hillary stormed off to her room.

“Good night.”

Hillary awoke the next morning to the scent of the freshly-baked pie. Thinking she wanted some for breakfast, she got out of bed and slipped on her yellow bathrobe, hoping that the previous night’s events had all been a dream. And then she got to the living room and saw Bucky asleep peacefully on the couch. Well, relatively peacefully. He had a bit of a snore.

She sighed. She couldn’t turn on the TV to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade because she didn’t want to wake him up. So she quietly got a plate from the cupboard and cut herself a piece of pie. She ate it sitting at the bar, and out of boredom she watched him continue to sleep. He mumbled something quietly about a police box.

And she had to ask herself an honest question, would she really want to disturb someone who had had such a hard life but was now enjoying the comfort of slumber on their living room couch? 

She cut herself another piece of pie and went back to her room.

A half an hour later, she heard loud meowing sounds coming from the living room. She went out and saw Bucky standing behind the couch, a blanket bundled up in his metal hand, and Mudder was staring at from the floor, looking like he wanted nothing better than to jump and rip his eyes out. 

“Mudder, leave him alone!” Hillary said, kicking the cat. The cat yelled and then started hissing at her.

“You mangy cat,” she said to him, picking him up by his middle. He dug his claws into her sleeve and tried to bite her arm. “You are making things very difficult for our guest, but you know what, we owe you one because you found him in the first place.”

Hillary opened the screen door just enough to hurl the cat through it into the backyard. “Good riddance.”

She turned around to see Bucky looking at her.

“You can sit down now. And you’re welcome.” 

“I didn’t thank you for anything--” he started.

“The cat isn’t partial to strangers. Lucky for you I intervened before he ripped your face off.” She looked him up and down. He looked a little worse for wear after a night on the couch.

“Did you sleep in your jacket?” she asked him incredulously.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“Well, weren’t you a little warm and uncomfortable?”

“A little stiff, but I’ve slept in worse places. What’s that on the table there?”

“Oh, that’s pie. You want to try some?”

“Sure.”

“We’re saving most of it for after dinner,” said Hillary, getting out a plate from the cupboard and a fork from the drawer. “But Dad always likes to eat it for breakfast. Some days during the Christmas holidays we eat pie with every meal because there’s so much of it. This kind’s apple, by the way. You mind if I turn on the TV?”

“Go ahead,” said Bucky, tucking into the pie.

Hillary turned on the plasma screen to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. She and Bucky watched for a few minutes, then when it went to commercial break, she turned on the computer and checked her Facebook. 

“You dad left a few minutes ago, by the way,” he said to her.

“Oh, really? Where’d he go?”

“To check on the turkey, I think he said.”

She saw something on Facebook that made her laugh very loudly.

“What?” Bucky asked her.

“It’s the Avengers--and your friend Steve. They’re having fun, it looks like. Come here and see.”

Bucky came over to the computer and she showed him a picture of the Avengers and their dinner guests--Tony Stark’s friend Rhodey, Steve’s friend Sam Wilson, Pepper Potts and Agent Phil Coulson--all wearing pink shirts.

“I don’t see why this is funny,” said Bucky.

“It’s a reference to the movie ‘Mean Girls’. Steve’s friend Tony captioned it, ‘On Wednesdays We Wear Pink.’ Yesterday was Wednesday, and they all wore pink shirts for the photo.” 

Bucky gave her a quizzical look.

“I thought you’d be interested anyway, since your friend Steve’s on here--rockin’ that pink shirt, too, by the looks of it.” Steve was standing second from right, next to Wilson. “Not his best color, though. But see, Bucky, they brought their other friends come to Thanksgiving Dinner with the Avengers, too! You could be there!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t Thanksgiving Dinner today? I wouldn’t make it in time for their dinner, wherever they’re having it.”

“No, can’t you just see it? You could totally call them up right now, they’d have a plane ticket for you in like five minutes, it’s like a four hour flight to New York and you could be there this evening. They’d wait for you if Steve asked them to.”

“Well they don’t need me to. It sounds like too much trouble for them anyway.”

“Are you sure you’d rather not spend Thanksgiving Dinner with the Avengers instead of us?”

“No...I mean yes, I’m sure, and frankly I’d rather not spend Thanksgiving Dinner with anybody, but it would be a bad start for my new job if I declined my new boss’ offer to do Thanksgiving Dinner with him.”

“I’m sure your job doesn’t depend on it.” When Bucky didn’t reply, she continued, “But the day is still young. I’m sure you could still get away with it.” Bucky sat on the couch sulkily and watched TV. The parade had started again.

“Pink totally isn’t your color, Steve,” Hillary commented to the computer screen, and she typed it as a comment.

She turned off Facebook for the time being. She looked at Bucky. What are we going to do with him? she asked herself.

Bucky noticed him looking at her. “You got something to say to me?”

“No.”

“Well, here’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“Okay?”

“When you invited me in last night, what were you planning to do with me, before your dad showed up?”

“Oh. Well, I was just going to give you some real food and then send you on your merry way. That was all.”

“You weren’t planning to call S.H.I.E.L.D. on me after I left, were you?”

“Yes, I was,” she admitted, trying not to sound guilty. “But now Dad says I can’t. Oh boo hoo for me.”

“I guess I’m lucky someone’s sticking their neck out for me,” Bucky said, slumping down on the couch.

Hillary’s mother came into the living area with her hair in rollers and wearing her purple bathrobe.

“Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning, Mom,” said Hillary. She walked over to give her mother a hug. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too, love.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Your father says we have a guest. Is this him?” She looked over at the couch. 

“Yeah, that’s him. Bucky, this is my mom.”

“Hello,” she said. 

“Oh, hello.” Bucky sat up on the couch, then stretched and walked up to shake hands with her.

“I’m JoAnn Tanner. You can call me Jo. And your name is Bucky: is that short for something?”

“You don’t need to know what it is.”

Jo looked at Hillary. 

“Even I don’t remember what it means,” said Hillary. 

“Well, is there anything we can do for you, dear?” said Jo. 

“Well...I could use a shower, if you’d let me have one.”

“Go right ahead. Our bathroom is in the master bedroom. Do you have any clean clothes?”

“These are all I’ve got,” he said, stifling a laugh.

“Well, Trey should have some in his closet. I’m sure if we dig through there might be something to fit you. But I don’t think Cody left any that would be your size. We also hav extra razors and shaving cream.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

He was headed down the hall for the master bedroom. “No, not yet...well, just some pie, actually.”

“Well, if there’s anything else you want, I can make you some eggs, or there’s some cereal, or bread if you want some toast.”

“I’m fine, thank you, ma’am. If I want to eat anything else later, I’ll let you know.”

He disappeared into the master bedroom.

“The towels are in the cupboard!” Jo shouted after him.

“I’m not going to shower just yet,” he called back to her.

“Um, Mom,” said Hillary.

“Yes, dear?”

“I should probably tell you: Bucky here isn’t your typical homeless guy.”

“Okay,” Jo nodded.

“He’s...had a really rough life. He’s been held captive by some really bad, no, I mean, evil people, and he escaped a few months ago and he’s been living on the run. This is the type of stuff I deal with at work, in fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. is looking for him. I was going to turn him in, but then Dad offered him a job and he put his foot down. So now I can’t turn him in.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to talk to Dad about it?”

“No. Bucky's going to take him up on it. I guess we’re just going to have to put up with him. I’m going to be traveling a lot with my new promotion, and if he’s living at the garage then it might not be so much of a problem.”

“But we’re going to be having him for dinner today, right?”

“That’s right...I mean, yes, we’re having him for dinner as a guest, and not a course in the meal, I know how wrong that just sounded. Oh, look, the parade’s back on!” Hillary went back to the couch to watch the parade while her mother went to the kitchen to get herself something to eat.

Bucky came back out and joined Hillary on the couch. They watched the parade for a few minutes. Then he asked Jo for something to eat, and she fixed him some buttered toast. Trey Tanner returned from his errand of checking on the turkey. 

The parade broadcast ended about eleven. Bucky announced that he was going to use the shower and Jo took him to their bedroom to pick out some clothes for him. He came out showered and clean-shaven within three quarters of an hour, during which time Hillary and her mother were preparing the candied yams and the corn. Her sister-in-law Susan called with a question about the mashed potatoes. Her sister Julia was in charge of the green beans, and their grandmother was bringing the cranberry sauce and a salad. 

“Well, you clean up nicely,” said Hillary when he emerged from the bathroom, his dirty clothes in a bundle.

“I get that a lot,” Bucky said. 

Jo eyed his metal arm sticking out of the floppy sleeve but said nothing. But Hillary caught her staring.

“Oh, nearly forgot about that. Do you have anything to cover--”

“I’ll just wear my sleeve down.”

“How about your hand?”

“I’ve got a glove.”

“It’s probably dirty,” said Hillary. “But I’m not sure we have anything we could give you for it. Mom, does Dad have any gloves that Bucky could wear?”

“Just his work gloves, I’m afraid,” Jo said, placing the yams in the oven. “They might be a little heavy to eat dinner in. A plastic glove might work, but my kitchen gloves would look weird and a plastic glove would rip easily. How about if you turned your glove inside-out, Bucky?”

“That’d work,” Bucky nodded. 

Thanksgiving Dinner was going to be at two in the afternoon. At noon, Trey went out of the house to pick up Grandma and the turkey, and he left Hillary and Bucky in charge of setting up the table.

“What time are Mike and Susan coming again, Mom?” asked Hillary.

“They’re coming at one. And Julia and Greg will be coming at one-thirty, but they’ll be leaving at three-thirty.”

“Gee, they’re not going to be here very long, are they? Bucky, come help.”

She and Bucky went into the utility room on the other side of the kitchen. She pointed to the four table extensions beside the garage door.

“Wait, how many do we need, Mom?”

“Just three will be enough.” She set out a tablecloth on the end of the bar.

“Okay, then, you take two and I take one,” she said to Bucky. They carried the table extensions into the dining area. Hillary instructed him to place the leaves on the wall behind the table. Then, very carefully, she and Bucky pulled the table apart so they could insert them. It almost terrified her, to see he was strong enough to pull apart the table without help. They put the leaves into the table, and Bucky helped her cover it with the tablecloth. Then they gathered up chairs and the piano bench and set them around the table, and Jo started getting out the fancy dinner china.

He was wearing a green flannel button-up shirt and a pair of old jeans, both of which were slightly too big for him. Jo apologized, but Bucky said it wasn’t a big deal. He rolled up the oversized sleeves and got to work helping Hillary set the table. Hillary loaned him a ponytail holder.

A little after twelve-thirty, Trey returned, walking a frail old woman in a blue cardigan through the door. He brought her in and then went out to get the food waiting in the car. 

“Hello, Grandma Agnes!” Hillary said, rushing up to give her grandmother a hug.

“Hello there, dear, how nice to see you,” said her grandmother. 

Grandmother Agnes was a short woman, made even shorter by her bent back. She was plump around the middle and had large blue eyes magnified by round glasses secured with a tie that went behind her neck. Her white hair was permed into very tiny curls. She wore a floral-patterned purple dress and steadied herself with a cane.

She looked up at Bucky, who was sitting idly at the kitchen counter. “Now who is this?”

“This is Bucky,” Hillary said quickly. “He’s a homeless man that dad’s offered a job to. He’ll be eating dinner with us.”

“Oh,” her grandmother nodded.

“How do you do?” Bucky said, giving her his hand to shake.

“Doing well, doing well,” she said. “Agnes Tanner Brown, at your service. Of course, I had hoped you weren’t dating Hillary or anything. It would be a shame to think she’d taken up with a hobo.”

“Oh, Grandma, now really!” Jo said.

“Grandma, I don’t take up with hobos, you know that,” said Hillary. She looked at Bucky nervously. “Sorry.” Bucky folded his arms.

“Well, what does the young man have to say for himself, then?” 

Bucky shrugged. “Well, every girl I meet seems to get angry with me for some reason. Hillary and I just barely met last night and she’s already mad at me. I guess I’m not dating her, then.”

“Good,” said Grandma Agnes. She sat down on the armchair in the living room.

Jo laughed. Hillary nodded and gave Bucky a sly look.

Trey came back into the room carrying Grandma Agnes’ food offerings, the tray of stuffing and a frosted bundt cake.

“Trey, son, you have a hobo living in your house,” said Grandma Agnes, pointing her cane at Bucky.

“Oh, him? He’s just staying with us for a few days. He’ll be staying at the garage after the holiday is over.”

“Good.”

Trey returned to the car for the turkey.

“But tell me, young man, how old are you?” Grandma Agnes asked him.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Well, how old do you think I am?”

“Thirty-two or thirty-three, I shouldn’t be surprised. Not a day over thirty-five, at most.”

“Good. Then we’ll just say that’s how old I am for right now.”

“But how old are you really?” Jo asked him when he went to the kitchen for a stack of plates.

“Um, good question.”

Jo looked at Hillary, who was stacking glass cups onto the counter. Hillary shrugged. When her mother wandered over closer, she leaned into her ear and whispered something. Jo gasped quietly in response, but went back to sorting through the silverware. 

Then she said softly to herself, “That’s where I’ve heard of him.”

“Heard of who?” asked Grandma Agnes. “My hearing aids are turned way up. There’ll be no whispering things around me in this house.”

“Nothing, Mom, it’s nothing,” said Jo.

Trey came back into the house with the turkey in his arms. “Hey, is the oven still on?”

Everyone in the house took a deep inhale of the scent of roasted turkey.

“Now it smells like Thanksgiving,” said Hillary.

“The oven is still cooling off from the sweet potatoes,” said Jo. She turned the oven to warm and opened the door for Trey. 

Hillary walked up to Bucky. “I’m going to take a break and play something on the piano for Grandma. You wanna keep helping Mom and Dad?”

“Sure,” he nodded. 

Hillary sat down at the piano, but then fell onto the floor because the piano bench wasn’t there. She laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Bucky.

“The piano bench is at the table, silly me.” She got up and retrieved it. “I should know better than to set the piano bench at the table before we need to use it. Grandma, do you have any requests?”

“If you know any of the Thanksgiving hymns, play them,” Grandma Agnes nodded.

Hillary opened the LDS Hymnbook and played “Prayer of Thanksgiving.” When she had finished a verse, she noticed Bucky standing next to the piano. He looked like he wanted to tell her something.

“What?” she asked him.

“I know this song,” said Bucky.

“From where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe it was in that past you’re now just starting to remember,” said Hillary. She flipped through the pages of the hymnbook to a different number. 

“Move away from the piano, young man, and go back to helping her parents,” said Grandma Agnes. “I’m being serenaded.”

“Er, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Continue.”

Hillary played “For the Beauty of the Earth” and “All Creatures Of Our God and King.” Then the back door opened and more family members started coming in. 

Two small children entered through the garage, a boy and a girl, followed by their father and their pregnant mother. The two adults greeted Jo and then went to say hello to Trey and Hillary and their grandmother and were introduced to their guest. Mudder the cat had also entered with them.

“Granny!” the two little children exclaimed as they went into Jo’s waiting arms. Jo had been preparing the candied yams and still had her apron on, but she hugged the boy and picked up the little girl.

“Granny, look what I made at school for our Thanksgiving dinner!” said the boy, pulling something out of his hoodie pocket. It was a cartoon turkey pasted onto a headband and colored not too carefully. He put it on his head.

“Oh, Oliver, that’s adorable!” 

“We did Thanksgiving day at my preschool, Granny,” said the girl. “The boys got to be the Indians and the girls got to be the Pilgrims and I got to eat the food.” The girl toyed with the ends of Jo’s hair. 

“Sounds like fun, sweetie,” said Jo, putting her down.

The girl looked up and saw Bucky standing across the bar. “Granny, who’s that man?”

“Linsey, this is Bucky. He is a very nice man who doesn’t have a family to go to for Thanksgiving Dinner, so he’s going to eat with us. Can you say ‘hi’ to Bucky?”

“But Granny, but my momma says we’re not supposed to talk to strangers. And my teacher at preschool says it, too.”

“Well, Bucky’s not a stranger today. For right now he’s a part of our family. Any person can be a part of our family when Granny or Grandpa Trey says so, and Grandpa Trey is going to give Bucky a job at his car shop and he wants Bucky to have a place to eat Thanksgiving Dinner. Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Linsey nodded.

“Can you say hi to Bucky now?” She turned her little granddaughter around. 

“Hi, Bucky,” said Linsey, waving feebly.

Bucky waved back, not sure whether to return her awkward smile.

Oliver showed off his turkey hat to his grandfather, and then he joined his sister in greeting their great-grandmother. Then Linsey went up to the piano and started pounding on the keys. Hillary picked her up and sat her on the piano bench and let her play with her.

Mike and Susan Tanner said hello to Jo and then too notice of Bucky.

“So are you from around here, Bucky?” Hillary’s brother Mike asked him over the hubbub of the children.

“No I’m from...I’ve traveled around,” said Bucky, shrugging.

“Did you arrive in Mesa just recently?” asked the pregnant sister-in-law, Susan.

“No, I mean, yes, I’ve been here for a few weeks, I came into this neighborhood about a week ago. It’s treating me all right.”

“Are you looking for work right now?” asked Mike.

“No, I haven’t really been looking to work. Just to live. But actually your dad did offer me a job last night at his shop.”

“Oh, really? How nice of him!” said Mike. “Yeah, my dad’s always doing that kind of nice stuff for people. What’ll he have you do? Do you have any experience as a mechanic?”

“Er...no, not really,” Bucky shook his head. “Not really sure what he’ll have me doing, actually.”

Mike and Susan both nodded.

“So how about you guys? Do you two do anything for a living?”

“I’m a web designer for a software company based in Phoenix,” said Mike. “I design computer programs.”

“Really? I don’t know much about computers, but I guess they’re fun to work with.”

“They are, actually,” said Mike. “Loads of fun, really. And if you can learn a thing or two about them, it can help you get ahead.”

“Wow, that’s cool. I’ll have to look into that sometime.”

“Mike really enjoys his job,” said Susan. “I’m an event planner for a catering company in Tempe, though I’m planning on taking a maternity leave for baby number three after the holidays.” She smiled and patted her baby bump. “Our office isn’t far from where Hillary works, actually, what’s that organization called? S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D., right,” Mike nodded.

“It’s the Strategic Homeland Enforcer something…”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Mike nodded. 

“They’re lucky the acronym spells something.” She and Mike laughed. They looked at Bucky expecting him to get the joke.

“Oh, S.H.I.E.L.D., right, haha,” Bucky nodded, glancing at Hillary and at the screen door. “Congratulations, by the way,” he cut in, letting his gaze rest on Susan’s middle. 

“Thank you,” said Susan. “We’re having a boy.”

“A boy, that’s cool. Wait, how do you know what it is if it hasn’t even been born yet?”

“Oh, uh, we got an ultrasound,” said Mike.

“We’ve got it covered on our insurance,” Susan said.

Bucky still looked at them blankly.

“You all right?” asked Susan.

“I’m fine, I’m fine...I just, don’t get around much.”

Trey Tanner heard them talking and cut in. “You’ll have to excuse Bucky. He’s been having some memory problems lately.”

Mike and Susan nodded sympathetically. “That’s really tough, man,” said Mike.

Trey distracted his son and his daughter-in-law by getting them glasses of water from the tank and having them sit on the couch, and he chatted with Mike about work while Susan helped her mother-in-law in the kitchen. Bucky sat on the couch with a glass of water as well, and he watched Hillary playing with Linsey and Oliver. Oliver was a tall boy with a front tooth missing. Linsey’s straight blond hair was pulled back with a barrette and a ponytail, and she wore a frilly pink skirt over her pants. Even with the noise, Grandma Agnes nodded off to sleep in her armchair once or twice, only to be rudely shaken awake by one of the tots. 

Mudder the cat came walking coolly back into the living room. He did some sniffing around in the kitchen, and then he started hissing when Linsey tried to pet him.

“Time to put the cat out,” said Jo. Mike threw the cat out the screen door but left the blinds open.

Linsey went over to the kitchen to bother her grandmother.

“Granny, can I watch Frozen?”

“Not now, you silly girl,” said Jo. “You just barely got here.”

“Does she have to watch that movie every single time she comes over here?” asked Hillary, who had wandered over to the kitchen for a break.

“Oh, she never goes a day without watching Frozen at least twice,” Susan groaned. “And then she’s always singing the songs or pretending she’s Elsa and playing games with her stuffed Olaf. We had to hide him so she wouldn’t bring it over today.”

“Dang,” said Hillary. “Hey, Linsey, do you want to sing from my Frozen piano book?”

“Yes, yes! I want to sing Frozen!” Linsey squealed with delight. They returned to the piano. Hillary opened the pages of a song book and they began singing

“Do you wanna build a snowman?  
Come on, let’s go and play.  
I never see you anymore,  
Come out the door,  
It’s like you’ve gone awaaaaaay.  
We used to be best buddies,  
And now we’re not,  
I wish you would tell me whyyyy...”

When they had sung two more verses of that song, which Bucky found rather annoying, the girls sang a song that repeated the words “Let it Go” over and over in the chorus. He wished he could find some peace and quiet somewhere. 

The garage door opened again, and two more people entered, another couple, but thankfully without children. The woman was tall with straight brown hair like Hillary’s, but with a slightly rounder face like Trey’s. She came in carrying a steaming casserole tray, which she immediately sat down on the counter so she could embrace Jo. Then she and her companion came around to the living room to greet Grandma Agnes and Trey, Mike, and Susan. The woman also hugged Hillary from behind while she still played at the piano, and then they sat down together.

Trey had the man who had just entered walk up to greet Bucky. 

“Greg, I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet. This here’s Bucky, a drifter I caught raiding our garbage bin. I’ve hired him to help me out at the shop. Bucky, this here’s my son-in-law, Greg Patterson.”

Bucky stood up to shake hands with him. “How do you do?”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Greg pleasantly. He was lanky but not tall and the hair on the top of his head seemed to be thinning.

“Greg works at the auto supplies store down the street from us,” said Trey. “In fact, that was how he met Julia, when he came in to talk to me one day when she was at the shop.”

Greg laughed. “We already knew each other from school, we just didn’t get to talk much before then. But some people have more awkward relationship stories. Where you from, man, around here?”

“Here and there,” Bucky shrugged.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, and I look forward to working with you.” Greg turned his attention to Mike. Oliver and Linsey left the piano to go play outside, and Susan stepped out to watch them. Trey led Bucky over to the piano to say hello to Greg’s wife, who was playing a piano duet with Hillary.

“Julia, this is Bucky. He’s going to be my new assistant at the garage. I’ve already introduced him to Greg.”

Julia looked up at him. “Nice to meet you,” she nodded, and she and Hillary resumed playing. 

Bucky walked over to the screen door to observe the children playing outside. It was a sunny day. There was a large metal thing that Linsey and Oliver were bouncing on, which he later found out was called a trampoline. There was a yard with a small patch of lawn and a swing set, surrounded by a high cement-block fence. 

Hillary and Julia left the piano to help in the kitchen. Jo was fixing the mashed potatoes and putting the food onto platters. 

He remembered very clearly now why he had decided to avoid people. But he sighed and told himself he’d better put up with it.

Trey stayed in the living room and talked with Mike and Greg. Grandma Agnes slowly got up and went to the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help, dears?” she asked the three women.

“Oh, no, we’re fine, Mom,” said Jo.

“Just doing the finishing touches,” said Julia.

“Here, you can take this,” said Hillary, giving her grandmother a large serving bowl lined with a towel. The rolls were inside of it.

“I will. But I do say, the men folk should not be sitting around letting you do all the work.” Agnes nodded at the men on the couch.

“Oh, no, we’re fine, Grandma,” said Hillary.

“Here, you help,” Julia said, looking at Bucky. Bucky went over and let her hand him the tray of green beans. “Sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name already.”

“It’s Bucky,” he said, “and you’d better not ask me again.”

“Bucky, was that nice?” said Hillary.

“Um, no, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Julia. “Just keep an even tone in your voice.” Julia went over to the table to count the chairs. “We’re missing two.”

“It’s just the piano bench we need,” said Hillary. “I can get it.” Hillary rinsed off her hands in the sink and went to the living room to retrieve the piano bench. “Are we ready to start?”

“We just need to carve that turkey up. Honey,” Jo called out to the living room.

“Oh, crap, it seems I’ve forgotten,” Trey Tanner stood up. “Sorry, boys, but I almost forgot the most important part of Thanksgiving. Honey, can you get the electric knife out?”

Bucky helped carry more things to the table. Trey pulled the turkey out of the oven. Using an electric carving knife that reminded Bucky of a chainsaw, Trey sliced the smoking breast of the turkey into large pieces. Greg went outside to play with his niece and nephew, while Mike sat on the couch and used his cellular device, but to do what he didn’t know.

Hillary and Jo mixed the turkey’s juices into a runny brown gravy which they poured inside of a china gravy boat that Hillary then carried to the table.

“I guess that’s everything,” said Hillary when that was finished. 

Trey was still loading the turkey meat onto a platter. “I think it’s time to start,” he said. “Mike, could you help Grandma to a place at the table?”

Mike got up and pulled out a chair at the end of the table and took his grandmother by the hand to help her sit down.

Hillary carried over the turkey platter to the table.

“Does it matter where I sit?” Bucky asked her.

“Nope, just sit anywhere,” said Hillary. Bucky took the chair beside the end of the table, on the left of Grandma Agnes. Grandma Agnes pretended not to notice him.

Jo poked her head out the screen door to call Linsey, Oliver, Susan and Greg inside. They came tumbling in a minute after, Greg carrying Linsey. They all washed their hands. Trey Tanner took the head of the table, opposite from his mother. Jo sat on his right and held his hand. Hillary sat on his left. Linsey and Oliver sat on the piano bench in between Hillary and Bucky. Julia, Greg, Mike, and Susan sat across from them.

“I’ll say the blessing,” said Trey. Everyone bowed their heads and Trey started praying, though Bucky didn’t know what was happening until a few seconds into the prayer. With the ‘amen,’ they began to pass the food around. It seemed like an ordinary family dinner to Bucky, but he was too ashamed to ask why this event was significant.

He took a little bit of everything on his first helping. By the end of it he was full, but he went ahead and got more turkey and potatoes. And he helped himself to the rolls. 

“So Susan,” Hillary asked, “have you and Mike been thinking about names for the baby yet?”

“We have,” Susan said, nodding. “It’s been difficult, really. Oliver already has Michael for a middle name. We were thinking about Trey--”

“Oh, please, no,” said Trey. “I don’t need any of my posterity named after me.”

“I said we were thinking about it, Dad,” said Susan. “But it didn’t really seem to fit. So right now we’re juggling between Theodore, after my grandfather, or Robert after your dad.”

“Well, whichever you decide on, you could do one and keep the other as a middle name, right?” asked Greg.

“Actually, that’s not what I had in mind at all,” said Susan. She scooped in a bite of potatoes. “We’re thinking we want the middle name to be David, after my father. Something David Tanner. I really like how that sounds.”

“So you’re picking a first name based off of just the middle name?” asked Hillary. 

“Why couldn’t we name the baby Olaf?” said Linsey.

“No,” said Susan.

Everyone laughed, except for Susan and for Bucky, who didn’t get the joke, and Grandma Agnes glared disapproval at them.

Bucky was just thinking that he had met a creature named Olaf recently when Mike spoke to him. He didn’t hear him the first time.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Bucky.

“Was Bucky supposed to be a nickname for anything?”

Bucky shook his head. “I...couldn’t tell you.” He took a large bite of sweet potatoes.

“Disgusting manners,” muttered Grandma Agnes.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Mike.

“I don’t have one to give, honest,” said Bucky.

“You don’t have to tell them everything, Bucky,” said Trey. He turned to Hillary. “What did you say his full name was?”

Hillary gave her father a dangerous look. “I never said he had a full name, Dad.”

“Come on, you know it.”

“Well, they don’t need to hear it, Dad,” said Hillary. The other people at the table were looking at her. “It’s none of your business. Bucky doesn’t need people gossiping about him.” She took a second slice of turkey and smothered it in gravy.

Oliver asked for corn and Bucky had to help scoop some on to his plate. He had a bite of the brown, lumpy stuff. It tasted faintly of spices. “What is this?” he asked his hosts.

“Oh, it’s stuffing,” said Jo.

“What’s it made from?”

“Bread crumbs, mostly. I just make it from a special mix I get at the store.”

“Really, JoAnn,” said Agnes. “I’d have thought you’d know how to make it from scratch.”

“Oh, no, my mother never got around to showing me. She wasn’t really the cooking type. You could show me if you wanted to, though, Mom.”

Grandma Agnes looked like she wasn’t willing to give her an affirmative answer.

“Or you could always get a recipe online, Mom,” said Julia. “Greg’s sister Carmen has this excellent recipe that she found online. We’ll be eating it later today, I think.”

“No, it was Monica’s turn to bring the stuffing,” said Greg. 

“Oh, right. Never mind. Well, maybe she’ll be using Carmen’s recipe.”

“But if it’s called stuffing,” said Bucky, “isn’t it supposed to stuff something?”

“The turkey,” said Trey.

“But nowadays people just cook them separately,” Jo explained.

“A shameful practice, in my opinion,” said Grandma Agnes. “Back in my day, we--”

“Mom, that’s enough for now,” Trey nodded. 

“I’m sorry for my ignorance,” said Bucky.

“It’s all right,” said Jo, smiling at him.

They had all cleared their plates and were starting to slow the pace of their eating a quarter of an hour later. Bucky managed to get through the rest of the meal without the others asking him awkward questions, but he was more enthusiastic about the notion that this was the best meal he had eaten in a long time.

“Well, it’s almost two,” said Julia. “I guess we have a few minutes to kill before Greg and I leave for his parents’ house.”

“You’ll probably want to digest anyway,” said Susan, dabbing off her lips with a napkin.

“Of course,” said Greg. “I don’t know how we’re going to fit in another dinner on top of that, though.”

“Oliver, how are your piano lessons going?” asked Grandma Agnes.

“They’re going great, Grandma,” said Oliver. 

“Would you care to play for me for a few minutes? I’m sure Julia and Greg would like to hear you play before they have to leave, too.”

“Yes.”

“Oliver, you and Linsey can help clear off the table first,” said Susan.

“Yes, Mama,” said Linsey. Everyone stood up and took their plates, cups, and silverware to the kitchen sink, which was full before Hillary or Jo or anyone else was ready for it to be.

“Hillary, do you want to start on the dishes?” said Jo.

“Sure, Mom,” said Hillary.

Bucky approached to help her, but she saw him rolling up the sleeve of his good arm.

“No, don’t,” said Hillary. “Help them clear off the table. I can take care of it.”

“Why can’t I--”

“Your arm. Just don’t.”

Bucky obediently went to help Linsey, Oliver, and the adults clean off the half-eaten platters of food from the table. He avoided eye contact with her and frowned.

Grandma Agnes returned to the armchair in the living room and called for Oliver to come play the piano for her. Linsey went and begged her mother to put on a movie for her, but Susan said to wait.

Oliver’s impromptu recital consisted of a few simple tunes that he played loudly. His parents and grandparents and Julia and Greg sat on the couch and watched, applauding quietly after he had played about five or six songs.

“Well, I guess it’s about time we were going,” said Greg when it was over.

“Sure you don’t want some pie for the road?” asked Jo.

“Of course!” Greg exclaimed. 

Hillary was still slaving away on the dishes in the sink. She nodded for Bucky to follow her mother into the utility room where they were keeping the desserts. They came back out with the pumpkin, cherry, and apple pies, and placed the plates on the kitchen bar that was already crowded with leftovers from dinner. Julia and Jo busied themselves cutting up pies and putting the slices onto a large plate, and Greg collected a plastic bag of rolls and a smaller plate of turkey and mashed potatoes and yams.

“Oh!” Jo exclaimed, “we need to plan Black Friday!”

“Good heavens, yes!” said Julia. 

“Hillary, why don’t you go get those newspaper ads from my room?”

“Right away, Mom,” said Hillary. She left the dishes and returned with a stack of colored newspaper advertisements. Bucky helped Jo dish up the leftovers for Greg and Julia, but when Jo left to sit on the couch with her daughters he just stood and watched. Susan joined with them, though she said she would be going to Black Friday, whatever that was, with her own family. For a good ten minutes they sat and planned and discussed what sounded like a marathon shopping trip through several stores. Sometimes they would hint about what someone else in the room wanted for Christmas. He didn’t hear his name come up, but he wasn’t sure they weren’t talking about him at any point in the conversation.

“So let’s say we meet about six o’clock at JC Penny’s, then?” Jo said when the discussion was over.

“That’ll be perfect, Mom,” said Julia.

“I’ll text Jennifer and Laura,” said Jo eagerly.

Greg and Julia said farewell to their family members for the time being, and Greg shook Bucky’s hand and told him he looked forward to seeing him again. Julia also took her green beans with her.

“Where did they go?” Bucky asked when they had gone.

“They went to his family’s house,” Hillary said. 

“To do what?”

“The exact same thing we did here.”

“You mean have another Thanksgiving dinner?”

“That’s right.”

“Well...who eats two large dinners in the same day?”

“People with two different families to go to,” said Hillary. “Most of Greg’s family still lives around here.”

Bucky was still confused.

“Why don’t you help Mom put the leftovers away?”

Jo, who was standing nearby, gave him an empty plastic container and put him in charge of cleaning out the pan of sweet potatoes.

The children finally persuaded their mother to let them watch a movie, and as it began playing Trey cut pieces of pie for his mother, Mike, and Susan.

The film they watched featured some of the same music that Hillary and Linsey had been singing earlier, and the two of them sang along loudly.

“What is this?” Bucky asked Jo in confusion.

“Frozen,” Hillary said.

“Oh, it’s a darling movie,” said Jo.

“It’s really annoying,” Trey said to them quietly.

“It’s all right,” said Susan, smiling wearily.

Mike got up to get seconds on pie for himself and his wife. Then Trey got up for seconds.

“Hey, Bucky, do you want some pie?”

“Mm, I don’t think we’re done,” he said, looking at Jo as she put away the leftover turkey.

“It’s all right,” said Jo. “I can get the rest of this.”

Bucky shrugged and got a plate from the cupboard and a fork. He hadn’t tried the dense orange pie yet, so he cut himself a decent-sized wedge of it and added some whip cream like he had seen Trey do with his. He sat down in the living room to watch the movie with the others, but he ate his pie slowly, savoring the rich taste.

“I wonder when the last time was he ever ate any pumpkin pie?” Hillary whispered to her mother. 

Jo made up a plate of leftovers for her mother-in-law. She finished cleaning up the leftover food and, having crammed it all in the fridge, she joined Hillary at the sink, and they washed the pots and pans and dishes until their fingers were wrinkled. Then they helped themselves to generous amounts of pie and joined their loved ones on the couch. The movie was over halfway over.

“Trey, I am ready to leave,” said Grandma Agnes.

“Okay, then,” said Trey, “Let me get my keys.” Trey went to his room and came back with his wallet, jacket, and car keys. He helped his mother slowly to her feet, and he carried her plate of food for her to the car. Hillary and Jo hugged her goodbye. 

“Does she come around much?” Bucky asked when Agnes had left the room.

“Once a month or so,” said Hillary. 

“You’ll have to excuse my mother-in-law,” Jo said to him. “She has a slight case of dementia.”

“Doesn’t scare me,” said Bucky. 

Hillary couldn’t help observing Bucky. He was partly distracted by the pie, but when he glanced up at the television screen to watch the movie, he watched it carefully. But then he caught Hillary looking at him watching, and he took another bite of pie.

Hillary got onto the computer after a few rounds of pie, to talk about her Thanksgiving experience on Facebook and to see what her friends were up to. 

In her newsfeed she came across a picture of Phil Coulson with the Avengers and company seated around a feast table. “Aaaaw,” she sighed. She was terribly tempted to have Bucky come up and see what he was missing out on. 

“What’s that you’re looking at?” said Mike, who was wandering over with another slice of pie in his hand.

“Some of my friends from work,” said Hillary. “They got to spend Thanksgiving with some special friends.” She let Mike lean in for a closer look.

“Is that--are they--the Avengers?” Mike stammered.

“They are indeed. I told you, when you work for S.H.I.E.L.D., you get to meet people.”

“Wow, that’s sure neat. Hey, Ollie, come here and look. One of Hillary’s friends got to spend Thanksgiving with the Avengers.”

“I wanna see, too!” exclaimed Linsey, Frozen forgotten for the moment. Hillary pointed out to them the faces she could recognize.

“Do you really know the Avengers?” asked Oliver, wide-eyed.

“Well, I was friends with Captain America once. We went to S.H.I..E.L.D. school together,” said Hillary.

“Wow,” said Linsey.

“Cool!” said Oliver.

Linsey cast a look back at the visitor on the couch, wondering why he wasn’t so very interested in Hillary’s cool friends as the rest of them. He looked down at his pie plate and picked at a stray swipe of whip cream. 

 

It seemed counter-intuitive for a family that owned as temperamental a cat as Mudder to keep a tank of fish in their living room, but they had one all the same. They had a heavy lid and tape around it to discourage Mudder, and a cover to go over it at night.

Hillary’s parents had already gone to bed, and she was alone in the living room, watching the fish swim back and forth. Whenever she had a vexing problem, she liked to just stare at the fish and think things over. 

She heard the door to the bathroom open, and out came her vexing problem.

“Hi,” he said, walking into the living room.

“Hello there.”

“Might I join you in whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” said Hillary, adding in her mind, just thinking about how to deal with you.

He sat down on the end of the couch. “Well, I don’t really feel like doing anything, either.”

“So how do you like Cody’s bedroom?” Hillary asked. Her mother had set up Cody’s room for Bucky’s use until he moved into the Garage.

“It’s all right,” said Bucky. “Your brother was an interesting guy. Not sure how I feel about the posters, but it’s better than bare walls any day.” He fell silent. Hillary hesitated to speak.

“So tell me,” she said finally, “why is it you won’t go back to Captain Rogers? Are you not remembering him?”

“I wouldn’t be completely honest with you if I said I didn’t remember him at all,” said Bucky, not looking at her.

“Well, what do you remember?”

“Nothing that definitively says I was ever friends with him. People have tried to help me, you know, to get me to remember, trying to heal whatever it was they thought was wrong with me. Well, it helped me, and I could remember a little better after they were done, but...you know, when I thought about what it would be like to remember the past, I thought it would feel like something I would be familiar with, something that was a part of myself.”

“But?” Hillary goaded him.

“But...I can’t recall my past voluntarily. Things just come to me, and then when I see them they don’t really feel a part of me. I don’t think that’s truly remembering. I see a memory come up, I don’t know where it’s from, and then I see it from a distance and I can’t grasp it. It goes away, or if it stays it feels uncomfortable. Like it’s not a part of me. And it's never what I want to see. Or what I think I want to see.”

“Well, I see where you’re coming from,” said Hillary. “Yet I think you may have set your expectations a little too high. You’re remembering things but they don’t feel a part of you?”

Bucky nodded.

“That isn’t how it works,” said Hillary. "A memory just is. It’s part of you. You don’t have to think about it, but you do have to let it be a part of you, because you can’t get rid of it, unless…” She looked at Bucky. “Well, you’ve had personal experience with that. But you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you do remember. That shouldn’t be an issue. Steve Rogers would be able to help you.”

“How?” said Bucky. “I don’t really remember him. I see a face sometimes that looks like his, but I don’t know how or why. It’s just there.”

“So you don’t understand it?”

“Does anyone?”

Hillary groaned. “Bucky, you don’t have to have everything perfectly to move forward in your life.”

“I am moving forward in my life,” said Bucky. “Your dad gave me a job, didn’t he?”

“But you don’t--” she didn’t want to say “You don’t belong here” because that might set him off. “But you don’t need to be here hiding. You belong with people who know you and love you and want you, even if you don’t remember them.”

“Well, you and your family seem to be doing a perfectly good job of that without having any connection to me whatsoever. It doesn’t make any sense for me to go looking for Captain America, because all he is to me is someone I failed to kill. End of story. I don’t belong in his life.”

“Not even if he wants you?”

“What he wants doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, then, where do you belong, then?” Hillary asked him. “Hm, where? Or are you going to drift around for the rest of your life?”

Bucky said nothing. Hillary saw the look in his eyes, distant, almost dreaming.

“Well?”

“The most likely scenario is that I do end up drifting for the rest of my life, which I wouldn’t mind. But I have some...unfinished business, that might change that, but I will take care of it later.”

Hillary stared at him. He stared back.

“You said you were leaving in the spring, right?”

“That’s right,” said Hillary.

“Where are you going, then? Are you telling me you have found a place in this world?”

“If she’ll have me.”

“She?” Hillary felt her blood pressure rising. “Do you have a girlfriend I need to know about?”

“You don’t need to know about it.”

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, I must say, I’m curious.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He leaned back against the couch and folded his arms together, mirroring the facial expression. “Is that what happened in Denver? You met her at the homeless shelter?”

“How did you know?”

“I guessed. I’m good at that. S.H.I.E.L.D. likes the people who work for them to be able to put two and two together. Now, what was her name?”

“Grace,” he said in a sharp, clipped tone that belied the nature of the name.

“Grace, that’s nice. You know her last name?”

“I’ve forgotten it.”

“Convenient. So were you two dating or interested in dating or you just had a crush on her?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed. “I was beginning to like her, and we went out on a date. But then I figured, if she knew who I was, if Hydra or someone else knew I was...knew I had feelings for her, well, then, they’d come after her and use her to get to me.”

“Fair enough,” said Hillary. “But did she like you back?”

“I think she did.” He amended that statement with, “I’m pretty sure she did. But she might not anymore. I left her without saying goodbye. Well, I did write a note to her, explaining why I was leaving, but that might not have done a good job.”

“How much did she know?”

“Know about what?”

“You?”

“She wasn’t able to pry a lot out of me. But...I realized a short while ago, maybe I need to tell her the truth. At least as far as I’ve been able to figure out.”

“Is that why you’re going--”

“To Denver, yes. In the spring. But not a moment before then.” 

“Well, why not go up sooner? If you want to be with her, ya know….?” She trailed off, think it it would be obvious, even to someone who didn’t understand what should be obvious.

“Denver gets a lot of snow and ice in the winter.”

“And that bothers you?”

“More than I’m comfortable admitting.”

“Hm, I wonder why that is.” Hillary would review his information later, of course, and it would make sense. “But, really, you should get back to her sooner than that. It sounds like you owe her more than an explanation.”

“I know,” said Bucky. “I must look like a coward to you.”

“No, you’re just a brave man who hasn’t entirely figured out what courage is for.” she patted him on the shoulder. “Well, I’m going to bed.” She got up and put the cover over the fish tank. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

Bucky Barnes was the most impossible man she had ever met, she thought to herself as she climbed into bed. And how a girl named Grace had managed to fall for him was beyond her. She must be one heck of a fool, Hillary guessed.

Jo Tanner turned on the hall light and opened her daughter’s bedroom door at five-thirty in the morning. 

“Rise and shine, sweetie,” said Jo. “We’ve got some shopping to do.”

Hillary groaned and got out of bed and stretched. She dressed quickly, grabbed her purse, and on her way out the door ate some cold pie. 

Jo was already waiting in the car with the heat turned up, though even at that ungodly hour it wasn’t terribly cold.

“I’ve already texted Julia,” said Jo as they pulled onto their street. “She’s agreed not to say anything about Bucky.”

Hillary nodded.

“Your father told me what you said to him about his background. I think we ought to help him.”

“The sooner we get him out of the house, the better,” said Hillary grouchily.

“Are you sure you feel comfortable doing this for him without turning him in?” asked Jo.

“It’s you guys’ project, not mine,” said Hillary. “I don’t think I’d be doing anyone a favor by turning him in. I don’t know exactly what S.H.I.E.L.D. wants with him, apart from getting him back to his friend. As long as it doesn’t bring a swarm of Hydra spies over to the house, it shouldn’t bother me in the least. I’ll be gone most of the time for work starting in January, and he’ll live in the garage and go on his merry way in the spring. I could get used to it. I could even pretend he’s not there.”

“Well, I don’t think what he needs right now is to be living in a house full of people who ignore him,” said Jo, “even if it’s just one person doing the ignoring. If that’s how you feel about it, it might be better just to turn him in. It would probably be better for him to be with his friend anyways--what’s Captain America’s first name again?”

“Steve,” said Hillary.

“What I thought it was. But I think you’re right, if he doesn’t want to go anywhere, we might as well keep him here and make sure he’s comfortable where he’s at. I’m going to pick up a few items of clothing for him while we’re out today--socks, undershirts, that sort of thing. If anyone asks, they’re for your brothers. And when we’re done, we’ll go out to Goodwill and see if we can find him some clothes to work in.”

“You do that,” said Hillary. “Anything else we want to get for him?”

“Do you think there’s something he’d like?”

“I don’t know,” Hillary shrugged.

“Well, and how about you? Are you going to be needing any new clothes for work?”

“Well, we could look while we’re at Penny’s. Some new skirts and slacks, blazers. I need some tights. Oh, and new shoes.”

“All right, we’ll be sure to look for that.” 

They met her sister Julia and her aunts Jennifer and Laura at JC Penny’s. Hillary found some nice new shoes. They were two hours at Penny’s, and then afterward they made a brief trip to Michael’s craft store for decorations and wrappings and stocking stuffers. 

They next went to Target, and feeling hungry and weary they decided to get refreshments at the cafe. They all ordered hot chocolate and pastries. Hillary didn’t really have the nerve to tell her mother what Bucky had revealed to her last night.

“It’s so nice that Madison’s birthday is right before Christmas,” said Aunt Laura, speaking of her daughter. “I mean, if I buy stuff for both Christmas and her birthday, it doesn’t matter really when I give it to her as long as she gets it. And then if there’s something I forget for her birthday, she can remind me and I can get it to her for Christmas.”

“At least she’s not Jake and has a birthday on the twenty-fifth,” said Aunt Jennifer, speaking of her husband. “He just doesn’t really care about having anything special for his birthday, he cares more about celebrating Christmas.”

“Well, weren’t you guys doing a thing where you celebrated on New Years?” asked Julia.

“Yeah, we did try that, a few years ago, but none of his work friends seemed interested in celebrating with him.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” said Jo. “Maybe you could try holding the celebration between Christmas and New Years’. Nobody’s doing anything, then.”

“It’s worth looking into, probably,” said Jennifer. She sipped her hot chocolate.

Hillary sipped her own, her tired mind not very interested in what people had to say about birthdays. But in the back of her mind, she did remember that she wanted to get her cousin Madison something for her birthday.

“You know, at least with Madison’s birthday in the middle of December, when she gets older she can look forward to having movies come out on her birthday.”

“That’s right, that does happen, sometimes,” said Laura. “but what I worry about is that with so much going on in the middle of the month, her birthday will kind of get looked over.”

“It’s been my experience, people don’t normally forget birthdays this time of the year, even if it is busy,” said Jennifer. 

“So how’s work treating you, Hillary?” Aunt Jennifer asked.

Hillary almost choked on her hot chocolate.

“Are you all right?” asked Laura.

“I’m fine, and yes, work is going well for me. I just got a promotion, actually, and a new assignment.”

“Oh, really, do tell us,” said Julia.

“Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. is putting in a new director, and he’s asked me to be his personal assistant and travel around helping him as a manager and a case specialist.”

“Well, that’s exciting,” said Jennifer.

“I thought they just got a new director a few months ago,” said Julia.

“They did, but she stepped down.”

“And what happened to the guy before that? I heard he met with some kind of accident.”

“Oh, haha, that’s an understatement. He got--well, let’s just say it was an accident. Top-secret stuff, you know.”

“I heard but I didn’t know if I should ask you about it,” said Aunt Laura. “There was some kind of conspiracy going on inside of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Oh, yeah, you probably shouldn’t ask.” Hillary was getting paranoid that they might accidentally ask her about Bucky. She turned to look at her sister. Julia gave her a nod and a smile.

“And this new director, is he a nice guy?” Julia asked, trying to sound encouraging.

“Oh, he’s amazing!” said Hillary. “He even came down to talk with me last Friday.”

“Wow,” said Julia.

“And will you be traveling abroad or just in the states?” asked Laura.

“A little of both,” said Hillary. “And my boss even said we might get to help out the Avengers on occasion.”

That last remark earned a few well-earned “oohs” from her female relatives. 

Jo gave Hillary a look, but said nothing about the stakes of the gamble the family was taking with their house guest. It was while they were in Target that Jo got some of the clothes that she had said she would get for Bucky. They were in Target for three hours, scouring the aisles for bargains. Hillary found items for nearly everyone on her list, except for her cousin Madison’s birthday and for Bucky. Afterward they went to lunch at Noodles’. Hillary was looking forward to going home and taking a nap afterward, but when her mother went the opposite way down G____ Street she remembered that they still had some shopping to do. Jo bought two pairs of jeans and three long-sleeved shirts for their friend, and she found a gently-used pair of tennis shoes that would be durable enough for work in the garage. But while her mother was making these selections Hillary wandered off to the toy aisle. She found a gently-used stuffed unicorn that she was sure Madison would love. When they arrived at home, Jo and Hillary came through the garage and the kitchen laden with overstuffed bags of presents and Christmas decorations. Bucky and Trey were seated at the table, finishing what looked like a meal of Thanksgiving leftovers. 

They greeted the two women as they came into the house.

“Do you two want help with anything?” asked Trey.

“You don’t have to get up right now,” said Jo, observing that they had been in conversation when they entered. Hillary heard them talking as she and her mother left the Christmas purchases in her bedroom.

“So anyway,” Trey said to Bucky, “I think the main difficulty of keeping you at the garage is making sure our customers don’t see too much of you or pay attention to you. Most people just bring their cars they drop ‘em off and take off in their other vehicle, if they have one. We don’t get very many people in the lounge, so if you stay in the break room most of the time you should be fine. I may send you off on an errand every so often, but I think I can trust you to not get lost or anything if you do.”

Bucky nodded. “I hope you realize the risk you’re taking in trusting me.”

“Like I said the other night, you were a good man, once. I think he’s still in there, somewhere.”

“Well, it’s not like everyone who sees me is going to notice me,” Bucky began, “but what about my metal arm? That might draw more attention than we want.”

“Well, when the guys and I work on cars, we don’t usually wear gloves and we keep our sleeves rolled up, so yeah, it could look funny if you weren’t doing the same thing. I can tell them you have a skin condition or something, if they ask. Keep it in your pocket as much as possible, and they might not care. But, granted, your coworkers will see, and sooner or later some of our customers will notice, too. But it’s not your job to worry about them. The people who mind don’t matter, and the people who matter don’t mind.”

“Sound advice,” Bucky said, standing up. He and Trey put their dishes in the sink, and they helped Jo and Hillary empty the back of their car. 

When the car was unloaded, Jo sorted through their purchases to give Bucky the things they had bought for him. He changed into a new pair of jeans and a shirt right away, relieved to no longer be wearing borrowed clothing.

Hillary went to her bedroom to rest. She read from the manual that Coulson had sent for a few minutes before dozing off. She didn’t run across anything that sounded like her work might be jeopardized if she didn’t report Bucky, but she realized that her awkward position wasn’t relevant to that kind of a security breach...well, not directly, anyhow.

She slept for a couple of hours, then she and her mother made another shopping trip to a fabric store, because her mother wanted to make Christmas pajamas for all of her grandchildren. That night she went to bed pleasantly tired...

 

She was at the computer screen, typing in some last-minute stats as they approached their destination. She was finishing up just as she heard a commotion in the room. Agent Smith had been rather temperamental during the whole trip, and it sounded like he was arguing with Agent Brethier again. Then she heard other raised voices, Crawford and Jones saying something about turning the plane around.

She came into the room to see Crawford red-faced and pounding her fist on a computer screen. 

“Gallas, what’s up?” she asked them. “Gallas” was the wierd cross between “gals” and “fellas” she decided to use to address the group collectively. But the address did nothing to diffuse the tension.

“What’s going on? Harry, do you know?” she asked Agent Kitchford, who was standing in the rear of the room and looked like he was observing the scene.

“We just lost the transmission from headquarters,” said Kitchford, who was fixing the reception dials.

“What?” asked Hillary.

“And there’s more,” said Agent Jones. “Captain America’s come out against S.H.I.E.L.D..”

“What? that’s ridiculous!” said Hillary, looking around. The grim faces of her coworkers, however, only mean that unfortunately what Jones was saying was true.

“While you were in the back room, he made an announcement over the S.H.I.E.L.D. intercom,” said Brethier. “He says that Hydra has infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. and that they’re using the Insight program to destroy the world.”

Agent Winnipeg swore.

“I thought Hydra was the Red Skull’s organization from back in the forties,” said Kitchford.

“That’s what I thought, too,” said Hillary.

“That’s where you’d be wrong,” said Jones. Hillary turned around to see Jones pointing her gun at them.

“Megan, what are you doing?”

“All right, which one of you goons is Hydra, because it’s not me!” said Megan.

“I’m not Hydra, either,” said Brethier, pulling out his gun.

“Hey, put those down,” said Agent Crawford, pulling out her gun. 

“Well, why don’t you put yours down?” said Winnipeg.

“Guys, let’s not be doing this right now,” said Kitchford, still trying to fix the dials. “We need to get back in touch with headquarters to see what’s going on.”

“How do we know you’re not working for them, too, pal, and trying to kill us all?” said Winnipeg.

“Please, don’t point guns at people who are just trying to help.”

“You guys, can’t we just stop and think for a minute?” said Crawford. “Why would Captain America be coming out and saying this now? He is clearly trying to sabotage the whole Insight operation.”

“Captain America is not a terrorist,” said Jones. “He’s a freedom fighter.”

“Well, how do we know he’s not working for anyone?” said Winnipeg. “For all we know, HE could be Hydra.”

“Or it could be someone from Hydra posing as him,” said Jones.

“Guys, we don’t have time for any of this,” said Hillary. “Put the guns down, this minute. Where’s the pilot?”

“I’ll go get him,” said Crawford.

“Don’t you move a muscle,” said Winnipeg. “I’ve had my eye on you since S.H.I.E.L.D. school. I know what you’ve been up to. You think you’re so smart, trying to go behind all our backs. You knew it couldn’t stay hidden forever.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Crawford laughed.

“Tal, let her go check on the pilot,” said Smith. he pulled his gun out and pointed it at Winnipeg. He nodded for Crawford, and she went to the cabin. “Now, as for the rest of you--”

“Colby, put that thing down, you don’t know what’s happening,” said Hillary. She waved her hands a little as she held them up. She swore she would be the last person to pull out her weapon. “For all we know, this is just some honest mistake, and somebody’s trying to pull a prank on S.H.I.E.L.D.--”

“You wish, Tanner,” said Brethier, pointing his gun at her. “No one in their right mind would joke about something this serious.” He pointed his gun at Winnipeg. “Now, Talbot, tell us, what is this secret that Crawford has been keeping from us?”

“I can’t believe you guys never noticed,” said Winnipeg, laughing. “They’re always going off, sneaking into secret meetings, plotting behind our backs and trying to sabotage our missions.”

“And what do you think is going on now?”

“This is...this is Captain America retaliating,” said Kitchford. “He’s wised up to the real situation now. You’d think, funny he’d be the last of all of us to notice, seeing as he was the first one to ever fight Hydra.”

“Well, does anyone know what this whole mission was about in the first place?” asked Jones, lowering her gun a little. “I mean, the Insight program was using pretty sophisticated technology to track down and destroy security threats, but who’s to say some innocent people aren’t being targeted, either?”

Hillary’s heart pounded. Her home, her family could be considered threats, especially if it was Hydra calling the shots. “But how do we know this is happening? Harry, have you fixed that transmission yet?”

“Do you think it’s easy to do that with one hand while I’ve been waving a gun at people?” Kitchford said. 

Agent Crawford returned to the main cabin. “The pilot says he heard what was happening over the radio. He’s going to take us down.”

“Where?” asked Brethier.

“Back to base, of course.”

“Well, didn’t his transmission get knocked out, too?” asked Kitchford.

“It did, but he also says that the Insight helicarriers got blown out of the sky.”

“What?” said Hillary.

“Don’t tell me Captain America did--” Jones stammered.

“No, you guys, Hydra rigged the Insight program to kill innocent people,” said Winnipeg.

“But I don’t get it!” said Brethier, stretching his gun as far away from his face as his arms could reach. “What happened? I thought Hydra was the enemy? How could it still exist after all these years?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering, too,” said Winnipeg. “But of course, now it all makes sense, after what Rogers said before the transmission went down. They’ve been hiding inside of S.H.I.E.L.D., all this time.” He looked over at Smith.

“Ok, we cannot land this plane right now,” said Smith. 

“Why not?” asked Hillary.

“Because it might not be safe for us to land,” said Smith. “They could be waiting to kill us if we fail to carry out the mission.”

“Well, it sounds like there isn’t much of a mission to carry out any more,” said Jones, pointing her gun at him. “Now tell me, whose side are you on?”

“Well, whose side are you on?” asked Smith, pointing his gun at her. Crawford was pointing her gun at Jones from behind. Jones glanced at Hillary and the others, hoping for some kind of answer, but they had none to give.

“Now don’t tell me this is the time to be dropping out of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” said Brethier. “I’m one month away from a promotion. I don’t need the rest of you messing things up with your shenanigans.”

“Cliff, this isn’t about you,” said Crawford. “All of our jobs are at stake right now. And our lives. What happens after this moment...it could change the world.”

“Aha!” said Winnipeg, pointing his barrel at Crawford. “So you’re wanting to change the world, then?”

“I was saying it could happen, if we’re not careful,” said Crawford.

“You don’t have anything to prove against her,” said Smith, pointing his gun at Winnipeg.

Hillary felt like she was in the third Pirates of the Caribbean.

“Well, how about you, then?” said Brethier. “What are you after?”

“I want to get out of this situation as quickly as possible and get our communications back on line,” he said with a nod to Kitchford. “But it seems like the rest of you aren’t quite so eager.”

“Of course we want to get out of this,” said Kitchford. “We’re going back to the nearest base to straighten this out.”

“No we’re not,” said Smith. “I agree with Crawford. We should wait this out and try finding a different place to land, if we have to at all.”

...She hated this part, the impatient waiting for the inevitable disaster, the time that could have been spent preparing and preventing what came next. But every time she dreamed it, she couldn’t change it...

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Brethier. 

Hillary reached into her jacket pocket for her gun. Things could get ugly, any moment now.

“Well, we could contact the base and see if they know what’s going on? Maybe that’ll give us a clue to what they’ll do with us,” Kitchford suggested.

“I don’t think so,” said Crawford. “That’s probably a bad idea. Tell you what, let’s talk to the pilot and see what he thinks.”

“No,” said Jones. “I’m the Agent in Charge here. I say we keep our course to the base and find out what’s going on there first. If we don’t have a place to go that’s nearby, we might not --” 

She groaned as Agent Smith socked her in the stomach. Hillary gasped, nearly dropping her gun.

“I say, you’re endangering our lives, and I’m going to redirect the pilot. Smith, keep an eye on her.” Crawford began to step backward to the pilot’s cabin. Kitchford, however, came up from behind her and picked her up and threw her on the ground, holding a foot on her stomach to keep her in place. Jones and Winnipeg wrestled Smith and put him on the ground as well.

“I should think you’re the one who’s not going anywhere, you double-crosser,” Kitchford.

“So it’s you and Smith, then, Laura?” said Hillary, pulling out her gun to join the others in pointing. “Are you Hydra, then?”

“Who’s to say you’re not?” said Crawford. “Who’s to say it isn’t Hydra we’ve been serving all along?”

Hillary and Kitchford helped Crawford to her feet. Jones and Winnipeg helped them take Crawford and Smith to a back room. “I’m going to have you two questioned later,” said Jones. “Cliff, stand guard.”

Cliff joined the two captives in the back room.

“Talbot, go check on the pilot,” Jones said. Agent Winnipeg went to the pilot’s cabin.

Jones looked at Kitchford and Hillary. “And you two, are either of you Hydra?”

“Nope,” said Kitchford.

“I’ve never even heard they were still around,” said Hillary.

Jones looked at Kitchford. “But you said you may have heard some things?”

“Jasper Sitwell was one of the ringleaders,” said Kitchford. “He tried inviting me to secret meetings once or twice. I didn’t know who to report him to.”

“Do you know who else was in Hydra?”

“A lot of the lower-level agents like us, not so much,” said Kitchford. “Not many of the younger ones, either. I didn’t think it would be Colby or Laura, either.”

“Do you think they could be, though?”

“It looks like it,” said Kitchford. “But are you Hydra?”

“I’d never even heard of them.”

“Didn’t you go to S.H.I.E.L.D. school?” asked Hillary.

“No, I did but I completely forgot the history lessons.”

“I think a lot of us may have,” said Kitchford. “In fact, Hydra’s history was never really discussed. They could have glossed it over on purpose.”

Winnipeg returned from the pilot’s cabin. “The pilot says he’s picked up a weak signal from the base.” 

“I’ll see if I can pull it out a little more,” said Kitchford, returning to the communication controls on the side of the room.

Agent Brethier returned to them, winded and bruised. “They’ve made a run for the back of the plane,” he gasped.

“What?” said Winnipeg.

Hillary’s mind raced furiously. “If they’re Hydra, and we’re not--they may be trying to blow us up before we get to base.”

“Talbot, stay with the pilot,” said Jones. “The rest of you, come with me.” 

Jones, Brethier, Kitchford, and Hillary filed down the hall to the rear of the vessel. Jones held her gun with one hand, and with her other she banged on the door to the utility room. She cursed at them a good deal as she tried to budge the door open. She told the other three to help her, but they felt Smith and Crawford resisting on the other side.

“Do you think we could try to break in from one of the walls?” suggested Brethier.

“That might work...if we had a chainsaw or something.”

“Don’t we have the thing in the back of the--” asked Brethier.

“No,” Kitchford cut him off, “we broke it last week, remember?”

“Wait, what’s that smell?” Jones took a couple of deep sniffs and swore. “They’re setting fire to the plane! That’s smoke!”

“Oh crap,” said Hillary.

“Kitchford, go get the fire extinguisher! And warn the pilot!”

“Right away,” said Kitchford, running the other direction.

“Stand back,” she said to Brethier and Hillary. She fired several bullets into the doorjamb and kicked open the cell door. Smoke filled the hallway and the smoke alarm went screeching.

“You think that’s funny, shooting the door open?” said Crawford. She and Smith came out into the hallway with their guns at the ready. “We’re not landing for anyone or anything.”

Jones led the other two back up the hall and kicked open another door to the side. Then she closed it. Brethier locked it.

...She knew she had already been through this once. She knew how it was supposed to end. But this time, she knew if she could just get them to stop trying to help her, if she could stay long enough to make sure they could leave safely too, then she would not have to see what happened next...

“What’s this room?” Hillary had never been in this compartment before.

“There’s an emergency exit and several parachutes,” said Jones. “Let’s go before they can get us.”

“But what about Talbot and Harry?”

“They’ll do the same.”

Jones grabbed a parachute from off the wall and started helping Hillary to strap in.

“I can get it, said Hillary.

“No, I have to let you go first?”

“You’re not under orders to let me go first, are you?”

“You’re the youngest of us, and you’re the one I trust the best,” said Jones. “I have a sister who’s your age.”

Hillary opened her mouth to insist that she let her put it on herself. But Brethier had gone over to the window. “There’s the base. I think he’s trying to come in range for a landing.”

Hillary was relieved. The smell of smoke was growing stronger, and she was starting to sweat, whether from her nerves or from the increasing heat she could not tell.

Then there was a loud knock on the door.

“You have nothing to fear,” said Smith. “Hydra only wants to bring peace and freedom to the world.”

Jones swore and shot a bullet through the metal door. Another one came flying back at her. 

“Cliff, now!” she shouted.

Cliff Brethier opened the emergency door. All Hillary could see was a blinding light and then miles of green jungle beneath her, and then the dun-colored tarmac. She hesitated at the door, the wind whipping her hair past her face.

“Just go, we’ll be all right!” said Brethier.

She jumped. She found the cord for the parachute and her fall was slowed. She landed on a grassy area next to the tarmac, and as she descended she watched the plane continue to circle around the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. By the time her feet touched the ground, she could see smoke coming out of the open door, but no other figures jumped from the plane. 

She needn’t have left so quickly, she said to herself. They probably needed her help up there.

And then the plane came up to the tarmac. She quickly realized it was going the wrong direction and way too fast. She ran to get as far away as she could, and then watched in horror and the plane crumpled onto the tarmac and exploded.

...Hillary slept in on Saturday, trying to shake off her racing heartbeat and her fear. She was able to keep back the tears until she remembered that Kitchford had left behind a wife and two children. 

She finished reading most of the S.H.I.E.L.D. manual from Coulson in the afternoon. She helped her mother get started on making Christmas pajamas for her nieces and nephews. 

Trey was gone doing errands most of the morning but could not convince Bucky to go with him. He returned in the afternoon to clean out the garage, and Jo persuaded their house guest to go and help him.

She looked at Bucky that day and wondered if he slept well at night, if he ever had nightmares about Hydra.

She wondered, not for the first time, if she had done the right thing, staying with S.H.I.E.L.D. after all that had happened. 

Over an informal dinner of leftovers that night, Trey asked Hillary, “Do you ever use fake identities for work?”

“That’s the nature of the business, Dad,” Hillary smirked, “if we’re trying to collect and maintain sensitive information, our own identities are vulnerable.” She looked her father in the eyes: she knew what he was going to ask her.

“How many false identities do you use?”

“A typical agent has at least one or two, but depending on your rank and your specialty, you can have more.”

“And how hard is it to make one?”

“It’s not that hard. There’s a program S.H.I.E.L.D. has for coming up with fake identification numbers and cards that can pass as authentic. You just need to be original about the name.”

“The name, then,” Trey nodded. “So how about a fake name for our friend here? Could you come up with the paperwork, if I gave him a good one?”

“And what will he need paperwork for, pray tell?” asked Hillary.

Bucky looked from Hillary to her father. Jo kept her eyes on her plate.

“Well, legally I can’t hire anyone to work for me unless they’re documented. You know how the tax system works: you can’t make a cent without documenting exactly where it came from and how you earned it. Poor Bucky here doesn’t have a scrap to his name.”

“Well, not one that’s more recent than 1950,” said Hillary.

“He’s at least going to need something in the future, when he leaves us, to show that he can legally work and that’ll keep people from suspecting him,” said Trey. “I would pay him right out of my pocket, but that would be tricky to explain on my tax forms come spring, why I withheld a part of my own earnings. He’s not going to be paid more than minimum wage, and he won’t be doing more work than it takes to say he earns his keep at the garage. But we still need to make it look as unsuspicious as possible.” Hillary noticed that Bucky had stopped eating. “Won’t it look more suspicious if they noticed you created forged documents for a fake employee?”

“He’ll be a real employee, fake documents or no,” said Trey. “Now, are you allowed to ever create a fake identity for someone who isn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?”

“If they’re being specially protected by S.H.I.E.L.D., yes,” said Hillary. “He could pass for that.” 

“Do you need permission or documentation to do that for someone?”

“My supervisor says I can make a fake ID whenever I need one for myself, or if I need it for someone I know. I could get away with it.”

“Hillary,” Bucky spoke up, “you don’t have to throw away your job for me. I’m not worth it.”

“I know I don’t have to,” said Hillary. “I’m not doing this for me.” She looked at her father.

“You don’t have to do it for me, either,” said Trey. “Do it because you are helping someone in need.”

“All right, if you say so,” said Hillary. Abusing work resources was not her idea of assisting a needy individual. 

Trey yawned. “I think it’s time for some pie,” he said, getting up and taking his plate to the kitchen sink.

“Can you believe him?” Hillary said to her mother.

“I know, sweetie,” said Jo. “You don’t have to do this.”

Hillary got up and took her plate to the sink.

“So what kind of a name were you thinking of for me?” Bucky said, getting up and following them. “I mean, John Doe is all right and fine, but it seems a little obvious, don’t you think?”

“Not to mention it’s just boring,” said Hillary. “No, S.H.I.E.L.D. expects creativity with pseudonyms. Something interesting but that won’t grab too much attention.”

“What did you say his assassin name was, again?” Trey asked.

“The Winter Soldier.”

“Right. Something to do with that, maybe, but a little less conspicuous,” said Hillary.

“I’ve always thought ‘Winter’ was a nice last name,” Jo suggested.

“Hm, meh, a little too obvious,” said Hillary. All four of them leaned against the kitchen counters. 

“And what was his real name again? James?” asked Trey.

“James Barnes,” said Hillary, nodding. 

“James is a nice name,” said Jo, looking at Bucky, “but you don’t seem quite like a Jim.”

“Stick with the ‘J’ theme, but change it, make it less obvious what they’re looking for.”

“Right.”

“How about Jason?” said Jo. “But we could call him something else for short, if we wanted.”

“Fair enough,” said Bucky. “But what about the last name?”

“Hm,” Hillary said, taking a post-it note and a pen out of a drawer. “If you rearrange the letters in ‘Winter’ or try to spell it funny…”

“What’s ‘Winter’ spelled backwards, perhaps?” Bucky suggested.

“Retniw,” Hillary said, sounding it out slowly.

“It sounds obscure and hard to pronounce,” said Jo.

“But it’s not ‘John Doe,’ either,” said Trey. “I like it. So Jason Retniw, do you like that, Bucky?”

“Sure,” Bucky nodded. “But it might not be smart for you to keep calling me ‘Bucky.’”

“I’ll come up with a backstory for why they call you that,” said Trey. “It’s not much of a big deal, I don’t think.”

“Well, how many guys do you know going around with a nickname like that?” asked Hillary. “First thing that comes to mind when people hear that name is Captain America’s sidekick.”

“Well, they don’t know it’s him,” said Trey.

“Steve Rogers might. And he’s looking for him.”

“Hillary, I promise, Bucky will keep a low profile at the garage, and the customers won’t even know he has a name. ‘Jason Retniw’ is strictly for legal purposes.”

“Fair enough,” said Jo.

Bucky nodded in agreement with them.

“Fair enough,” said Hillary. 

Hillary and Bucky did the dishes together, which didn’t take very long at all.

“I see why they never gave you a real name,” Hillary said to him.

Bucky smiled. “I didn’t even realize I didn’t have one, until recently. Just my luck that ‘Bucky’ was the only one I could find.”

“Oh, I’m sure there were plenty out there, if you’d wanted one.”

Trey Tanner sat down on his armchair to eat his pie and watch some late-night football. Hillary and Bucky sat on the couch, bored. Then Hillary asked Bucky, “Hey, do you want to play a game?”

“Like what?” he asked her.

“I could teach you one,” said Hillary. “How about slapjack?”

“I learned that one recently.”

“Oh, from who?”

“No one of consequence.”

“Well, whoever it was,” Hillary said as she got up to get the deck of playing cards from the bookshelf, “it was awfully nice of them to teach you how to play, and it was very nice of you to stop and learn from them.”

Bucky smiled. “You have no idea.”

“You want to play at the table?”

“Do you?”

“No, the couch is fine.” They sat on the couch and Hillary shuffled and dealt out the cards. Bucky needed a few refreshers on how to play the game, but he figured it out very quickly. Hillary was faster than him, of course, at catching the jacks and the pairs and the sandwiches, and then when he slapped on top of her after she had seen the cards they wanted, his right hand hit her heavily. He kept apologizing, and she kept on laughing it off.

He had his sleeve rolled up his other arm comfortably to reveal the metal hand with the glove off. She was thankful that, at least, he wasn’t left-handed, and that he wasn’t hurting her worse than he already was. She tried not to think of Peter Pettigrew’s ghostly silver hand from the Harry Potter books.

Mudder the cat sat and meowed at the screen door at a quarter to nine. Trey Tanner got up to let in the ‘stupid cat,’ who continued meowing piteously at him and then hissed when he saw Bucky.

“I think he’s hungry, is all,” said Trey. “Here, Bucky, you come with me.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to feed the cat tonight and tomorrow. We’ll see if we can get him to stop hating you. Follow me.”

He led Bucky into the utility room. He pulled a can of canned cat food out of a cupboard and instructed Bucky on how to pull the ring tab on top. Bucky carefully set the cat chow onto the floor by the cat’s regular food dish. Mudder watched them in apprehension, then ran to the open can without complaint when it was set down before him. Trey had Bucky fill up the water dish from the sink.

“There, you see, not a problem getting him to like you, if you feed him.”

Jo Tanner invited Bucky to go to church with them the next day, but he declined and said he would be much better off resting. Trey figured he wanted to avoid the other people whose trash cans he had raided. So they went to church, and through the three-hour meeting block Hillary racked her soul as to how she was supposed to keep Bucky safe when she had promised Coulson that she had no double loyalties. 

That afternoon when they let the cat in after church, he ran straight up to Bucky, who was reclining on the couch, and Mudder began meowing at him and sniffing him. 

Trey suggested that that was a signal for him to feed the cat. So he did, this time using the dry cat food. The cat took a few eager mouthfuls, and then nuzzled up to Bucky for a moment before going back to feeding.

When he returned from the utility room, Hillary was seated at the piano. Though her mother and father had removed their nice Sunday clothes before they had sat down to their dinner of roasted ham, she had remained in her black collared dress and heels and her ridiculous necklace of oversized fake pearls.

Bucky hadn’t spoken much since the Tanners had come home or during dinner. But he eyed her at the piano as she began playing.

“So how was church?” he asked her as she flipped through the hymnbook she played from.

“Church was good,” she said, nodding.

“So what do you do at church?”

“We sing hymns, pray, we have communion, and of course we get sermons on various topics--usually from members of the congregation or assigned teachers. It depends on the week.”

“And what were the sermons about today?”

“Gratitude. Which is funny because Thanksgiving was last week. You’d think we’d be done talking about that.”

“So what’s gratitude?”

She played the first few notes of a hymn, and then stopped and looked at him. She looked at him up and down for a moment, sizing up his oversized borrowed jeans and his tattered jacket with his arms stuffed in the pockets.

“Gratitude...is when you acknowledge that something else other than yourself has given you something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like this music, for instance,” she said with a smile. “Someone else wrote the notes down so I could play them, so I’m grateful to the composers and the songwriters who gave me beautiful music to play.”

“But they didn’t do it for you directly, did they?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy they did it.” She played a song through, and he sat on a bar stool and listened. 

“So what are you grateful for?” she asked him.

“What?” he asked, startled.

“Certainly, you’ve got a lot to be grateful for,” said Hillary, giving him a teasing smile. “I mean, you’ve come a long way since April.”

He smiled slightly. “I have.” 

“And I’m certain a lot of people have given you help since then. Are you grateful for them?”

He thought for a moment. Then he answered, “Some of them, yes.”

“Like who?”

“Truck drivers. They’ve been helping me hitchhike across the country. And sometimes people would be nice to me and give me meals or money. Take me to lunch. Treat me nice. Not much. Little things.”

“Well, feeling grateful for the little things is a start, but what about the big things?” She looked into his eyes, daring him to answer.

“Well, it’s just, I’m not always sure how I feel about the big things.”

“Well, that’s okay,” said Hillary. “It’s okay to be grateful for things you don’t always understand. Or for things that don’t exactly help you. That’s one thing I learned at church today.” She stared at the piano for a moment, eyes lowered on the keyboard.

“And why is that?” 

“Because the things that challenge you can help you to grow.” She began playing a Christmas hymn. 

 

Hillary had dreaded few Mondays the way she dreaded this one. Her father and Bucky were already gone when she got up in the morning, but Jo had yet to fix the sheets in Cody’s room. She took her time getting ready and drove slowly to work. Her father texted her to tell her to bring the false identification forms to the Garage once they were ready.

She was normally given a lot of privacy in her cubicle, and she didn’t have to take very many calls. There weren’t any notices from Coulson in her inbox, but she and her supervisor went over some forms documenting her work at the Tempe office. In her down time, she was able to fill out and print off a false birth certificate, social security card, and other convincing pieces of identification for a homeless man named “Jason Retniw.” Her supervisor never noticed.

Tanner Automotive Repairs and Inspections in Mesa was a bit of a run-down facility with peeling paint and faded bricks, rust on the garage doors and a faded sign. Bucky thought it rather reminded him of his own shabby appearance.

Trey Tanner and his new employee came in through one of the garage doors. The others were already there, working in their short-sleeved dark gray uniforms. There was a car on the lift being inspected by a middle-aged, overweight man with a beard who wore a backwards baseball cap.

“How’s it going this morning, TJ?”

“It’s going swell, as usual,” said TJ, peering out from under the raised car. 

“TJ, I’d like you to meet our new office rat, Bucky Retniw. Bucky, this here’s TJ Swenson, he’s my second-in-command who looks after the place when I’m not around.”

TJ and Bucky shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” said TJ. “Is this the one you told me about, Trey, that doesn’t have a place to live?”

“The very same.”

“Well, I hope the break room couch is comfy enough for ya,” TJ nodded. 

Trey and Bucky moved on, with Trey pointing out the various machines and places within the garage. They next approached a scruffy-looking man who was at a workbench in the back of the garage. Bucky eyed the tattoos coiled around the man's arms and the piercings spiking his left ear.

“Bucky, this here’s Adam Blake. Adam, this is Bucky, he’s had kind of a rough life and we’re giving him a place to stay and work for a little while.”

“How do you do,” said Bucky.

Adam nodded wordlessly as they shook hands.

“Adam’s from kind of a rough background like your own, well, in that’ he’s been down and out on his luck from time to time,” Trey explained as they walked away. “You two will relate, I think.”

Bucky doubted it was possible for him to relate to anyone so different, but he said nothing.

Through a door on the side of the garage they came into what Trey called the “business part of the building.” They first emerged into a waiting area furnished with a threadbare carpet and couch and an old TV. “This here’s our waiting area for guests. You’ll be keeping this spot nice and tidy, which, really, isn’t that hard of a job, since nobody comes in here. Just gotta make sure the trash stays picked up. Keep the magazines neatly stacked on the side table, and change out the light bulbs as needed.” A pinch-faced woman was seated on the couch reading a magazine, and she looked up and nodded as they passed. There was a small closet that turned out to be a bathroom with a toilet and sink. “You’ll also be in charge of keeping the restrooms clean. I’ll show you how to do it later.” They stepped out. “The TV works most of the time. You don’t really have to touch it to fix it when it’s having trouble, just give it a nice friendly pat on the back and it’ll run just fine. This is a car repair shop, not a TV repair shop.” They went through a door in the back of the room. There was a large desk as well as another couch, a table, and another old TV. “This space back here functions as both my office and the break room for the boys. You’ll be living here. You can just sleep on the couch. Back here,” he opened another door to reveal a small bathroom, this one with a shower, “I keep it so the boys can clean off if they feel too dirty to drive home first. Does this work for you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Bucky nodded. He really didn’t need much. 

“Good. Now you will take your meals in here,” said Trey, leading him back to the break room. Along one wall there was a small kitchen area. “The microwave’s kind o\ temperamental, but the fridge is in perfect working condition. Customers are not allowed back here. You can stay here for most of the day, come out and clean up after it’s all over, and just hide out here with the blinds down. I can get you a lamp so you don’t have to stay in the dark.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Bucky. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Nah, you’ll need it,” said Trey. “Why don’t you wait in here? I need to go call in the other boys. Go ahead and have a seat, you don’t have to stand up for everything.”

Bucky sat down on the couch and Trey left the room. He heard the clock on the wall ticking loudly and the radio playing outside and the television in the other room. He scratched his chin. Certainly it wasn’t the most comfortable place to live, but he had managed with much less for so long. The only trouble was it was so conspicuous. He felt exposed, even behind the whitewashed cinder-block walls.

Trey came back into the room with three other men behind him, a Mexican, a black man, and TJ. Adam came with them.

“Bucky, I’d like you to meet Pablo and Benny. Boys, this here is Bucky. He’s a garbage rat I found sniffing in my dumpster last week that I thought would do better to clean up our break room.”

“How about that?” said Pablo as they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” said the black man, Benny. 

“Hello,” said Pablo.

“Now, boys, if you’d like to sit down, I’d like to have a chat with you,” Trey announced. TJ leaned against the wall, Pablo took a chair and Benny sat on the desk. Adam leaned on the desk next to Benny. “Now, Bucky here has escaped from a life of crime, but there are government people still after him and his old friends are still after him, so we are going to hide him here. Bucky, I want you to stay out of sight as much as possible during the day when we have customers. You three and TJ, I do not want any of you to speak of him to any of our customers, do not mention his existence to your friends or to complete strangers.”

“But won’t the cashier lady at Maverick notice if we start buying an extra coffee in the morning?” asked Benny.

“Oh, don’t tell her anything just yet,” said Trey. “Now, Bucky will be staying here on weeknights. On weekends, I want each of you to take turns hosting him in your homes.”

“What?” said Pablo.

“You heard me. I do not want to hear of Bucky being left alone here on weekends. And he does not leave here on weeknights without good reason.”

“Oh, I can’t, man, my girlfriend kicked me out,” Pablo shrugged.

“Well, get your own place, then,” Trey suggested. Benny and TJ laughed.

“I can’t either,” said Benny, “I don’t got room in my apartment.”

“Do you have a couch?”

“Not a very good one?”

“Does it have cushions you can put on the floor?” Trey suggested.

“Mm, yeah.”

“There you go. Just wrap ‘em up in a sheet, and you’ve got yourself an extra bed.”

“I’ve slept on rocks before,” said Bucky. “Where I sleep isn’t a big deal.”

“So we’re agreed, then, we’ll look after Bucky, and make sure no harm comes to him?” The others murmured their assent. “Good. Now all of you go back to work. Oh, and I call dibs on him for Christmas.”

“Get outta here, man,” said Benny.

“What’s ‘dibs’?” asked Bucky.

“It means I get you for Christmas because I said I wanted to first.”

The four workmen left the room. 

“Now let’s see here, I need to get something for Pablo.” Trey walked around his desk and opened a cabinet behind it. He rummaged through some of his papers until he found what he wanted. “Lunch should be in a couple of hours, so you can just sit tight. Don’t touch any of my office stuff.” He turned to leave.

“Trey.”

“Yes, Bucky?”

Bucky shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Trey winked at him and smiled as he left. 

 

It was late in the afternoon when Hillary arrived at her father’s auto shop. She parked her car in the small parking lot across from the garage and walked out carrying a crisp manilla folder.

She saw her father inside working on an elevated car.

“Hi there, Dad,” she said as she walked in.

“Hello, sweetie,” said Trey. They embraced, and she kissed his cheek.

“Did we get our new employee settled in?” she asked him quietly.

“He’s in the office,” Trey answered her, barely above a whisper. “I locked the door, so you knock and he’ll let you in. I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” Hillary entered the waiting area. She said hello to the two customers waiting there, a man with his small son who was playing with a truck.

Hillary knocked on the door to the office. It opened.

“Hello there,” she said as Bucky let her in. “Long time no see.”

“Very funny,” said Bucky. 

“So how are you liking your new job?”

“It’s good,” said Bucky. “I haven’t actually worked yet, though.”

“And what are you doing in the meantime?”

“Well...I’ve just been sitting here on the couch.”

“Did you watch TV?

“No.”

“Did you read the magazines?”

“No.”

“So what’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve just been sitting here, thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

Hillary raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Don’t you ever get bored, just doing nothing?”

“I’ve been doing it for quite a while. Believe me, it never gets old.”

“I’m sure,” said Hillary. The door knocked. “I’ll get it.” 

It was her father. He flexed his knuckles as he came into the room. “So what’ve we got here?” He sat down at his desk in his big swivel chair.

Hillary placed her folder on the table and opened it. Bucky came up for a closer look.

“This here is a forged birth certificate for Jason Burrel Retniw,” said Hillary, showing the paper to her father. “And this is his social security card.” The other documents she had brought she explained to her father and Bucky.

“Well,” said Mr. Tanner, “I hope it’s nothing that anyone who’s looking for him will sneeze at.””

“It shouldn’t be,” said Hillary.”

“And this photo you used for the photo ID on this one?” asked Bucky, “is that me?

“No,” said Hillary, smiling. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has a database of pictures of fake people to use when we have to create fake identities.” 

“So did anything happen at work, then?” asked Bucky. “Did anyone notice you doing this?

“Nope,” Hillary shook her head. “No one asked. No one noticed me. They just thought it was a routine fake identity job I was doing. A lot of people’s false IDs got blown after what happened in April, so people have been working on new ones.”

Bucky nodded. “Well, thanks. I’m pretty excited to get started.”

“So am I,” said Trey. “Do you have to go now?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll go help Mom with dinner.”

“I’ll walk you out, then,” said Trey.

“Sure,” said Hillary. “See you later, Bucky.”

“Um, bye,” he nodded, resuming his place on the couch.

“We should get him a wallet so he can have a place to keep that stuff,” said Trey. “And Hillary, I also wanted to ask you, do you know if there’s anyone looking for Bucky that might do harm to us or to him?”

“Well, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s not exactly looking for him, but they promised Captain Rogers they would keep an eye out.”

“And how about the bad guys he used to work for?”

“I don’t know,” said Hillary. “They’ve all but disappeared. Whenever someone finds one of their hideouts S.H.I.E.L.D. or someone else wipes them off the map right away. The Avengers have been pretty busy with that lately.”

“But they’re still out there? Hydra, I mean?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, can you do me another favor and make sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. is keeping tabs on them, that they’re not trying to find him, either?”

“Right, I can do that,” said Hillary.

“Good.” He and Hillary embraced. “I sure appreciate you doing this for me. For him.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Dad.” They broke off, and Hillary got into her car and drove away.

 

Trey Tanner stayed at the garage late enough to teach Bucky how to clean the bathrooms and show him how and where to sweep, dust, and vacuum. He also showed him how to work the radio. Bucky passed the evening sweeping out the garage and listening to strange music. He wore his hat low over his face when he went to take out the trash, even though it was dark and there were no people around. The street that the garage sat on wasn’t very busy at night, thankfully. Trey had left him some Thanksgiving leftovers in the break room fridge for his supper, and he ate that when he was done with everything, and then he pulled out his bedding and slept on the couch. That would be his regular weeknight routine for the next four months. 

In the mornings he would make himself a small breakfast of whatever was in the fridge. Trey kept it well stocked, and his coworkers would often share with him at lunch. Most of the day he stayed inside the break room, thumbing through the magazines and books or turning on the TV for a few minutes if he was bored. He would usually take a nap in the afternoons. He was able to keep out of sight from customers ninety percent of the time, and the other ten percent he just smiled awkwardly and nodded and stayed quietly in the background. Trey let him out sometimes to show him how to do some simple repairs on a car. 

“We can’t keep you cooped up in there forever,” he would say. “And if you know a few tips for fixing a car, it might make you dang useful in the future.” 

 

On Tuesday, Coulson wanted to Skype call Hillary. So right before lunch break she made the call. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Coulson asked her, beaming a smile at her.

“Not bad, not bad, how are you?”

“Doing great,” he said. 

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m in Washington, D.C., at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s new office.”

“Cool. Is it as nice as the Triskelion?”

“Not really,” Coulson shook his head. “But I have a nice office now, instead of the closet they shoved me in at the Triskelion.”

“Sweet. And how was your Thanksgiving?”

“So great! I got to be with the Avengers! Best people on earth, in my opinion. Oh, we really rocked it at Stark Tower.”

“Yeah, I noticed. So on Wednesdays they wear pink?”

“Well, it was just a one-time gig.”

“Well, I saw the picture on Facebook. That color really doesn’t look good on everybody, so, yeah, just as well.”

“Yeah, you’re right. How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Oh, it was great,” Hillary started, but then she broke off, realizing she didn’t really have anything interesting to say. “My, uh, niece and nephew made us watch Frozen.”

“Don’t they do that every time they come over?”

“Pretty much.” She glanced away awkwardly, then glanced awkwardly back.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, ha ha, I’m fine, ha, ha, erm,” she smacked her lips.

“Did you have time to do the reading I assigned you?”

“Yeah, I did.” Thankful a change of topic, she discussed the assigned reading with Coulson. He explained some of the basic concepts she had probably lost track of in the details, and told her what to look for when they began working together in January.

“So that should cover about everything,” Coulson said in conclusion.

“I suppose it should. But I wanted to ask you real fast, though, how’s it going with hunting down Hydra, do you know?”

“Well...I don’t know,” Coulson said, shrugging. “I mean, I know a few things, but I don’t know a lot. The Avengers headed back out right after Thanksgiving to take another one in South America.”

“Are there any immediate threats in my area or close to it, that I should be worried about?”

“No, not really,” said Coulson. “Oh, but over the weekend, the homeless shelter where the Winter Soldier was staying in Denver, there was a Hydra spy arrested there. One of the managers noticed something suspicious about one of the people who came to Thanksgiving dinner and called the police.”

“Oh really?” Hillary said. “Wow, that’s a good thing they caught him. For a lot of people, probably.” 

Coulson gave her an amused look that she thought maybe translated to suspicion. 

“Ah, har, har, ahem.”

“What, were you looking for him?”

“Nope, he’s not my problem!” Hillary said, perhaps a little too loudly. One of her coworkers shushed her from the next cubicle. “Heheh, sorry.”

“Well, he’s not my problem, either,” said Coulson, “but I’m a little surprised Hydra’s been looking for him at all.”

“How come?”

“Well, from what my sources have told me, they seem to be in the market for a new super-assassin. Some of the bases we’ve uncovered were guarded by recruits who’ve been experimented on genetically. Your friend Jamie Sneld may have been one of the candidates. At least according to what Agent Bridger told me.”

“Right,” said Hillary. “But if they’re still looking for him, though, it might not be going well.”

“Exactly. Steve’s really worried about him. He’d like to find him before Christmas, if he can. So if you--”

“Right, well how about Hydra’s activity in general?” said Hillary.

“Well, that’s a little harder to pinpoint,” said Coulson, “but Denver is really the closest to you that anything’s happened.”

“A little close for comfort,” said Hillary, “but oh well.”

“Right.” A phone in Coulson’s office began ringing. “Well, hey, I’ve got to take a call. There’s some more reading I’d like to send you. You read that, and we can talk about it next week.”

“Sure.”

“Bye, Hillary.”

“Take care, Coulson.”

Coulson logged off the video call. Hillary sighed. Too close.

 

Hillary remembered before she left work that day that she wanted to call in a favor. Agent Marcie Johnson was at her desk near the front of the S.H.I.E.L.D. office, finishing some last-minute work on a report.

“Hey, Hillary,” Marcie said when she saw her.

“Hey, Marcie.”

“What’s up?”

Hillary glanced around nervously, and then she leaned over Marcie’s desk to speak quietly.

“Anything new on tracking down the last bits of Hydra?”

“Well, there hasn’t been anything for a while, actually,” said Marcie. “We know there’s been some activity in Las Vegas, our office there thinks they’re getting very close to a bust. They’re still investigating that mall shooting in Minneapolis. And in Denver there was--”

“An arrest made, yeah, I heard about it. What else is there?” 

“There hasn’t been anything here going on. Not that I’d know about. You’d have to ask Agent Parsons--”

“Could you ask him for me?” said Hillary. “I’d rather not have to talk to too many people about this. You know I’m leaving next month, right?”

“Right, for your promotion,” said Marcie. 

“Yeah.”

“That sounds so exciting,” Marcie said. She gave a deep sigh. “I wish I could go back into the field.”

“How’s your injury doing?”

“It’s better, really,” said Marcie, looking down sideways at her leg, which was still in a boot. “Coulson seems like a really nice guy.”

“Yeah, he sure is,” said Hillary. “I’m excited to work for him. But can you do me a favor, after I leave?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I need you to keep an eye on my family for me. You remember where I live, from that one time you had to drive me home from work?”

“Yeah.”

“And my dad’s garage, can you keep an eye on that as well?”

“Of course,” said Marcie. “Any particular reason you’re asking?”

Hillary had hoped Marcie wouldn’t ask her that. But then she realized something she hadn’t before about her promotion that also worked as a perfectly valid excuse.

“Well, I was just thinking, you know what, if I’m going to be working higher up for S.H.I.E.L.D., that might make me a target for Hydra, or some other bad people.”

“Like who?”

“Anyone who doesn’t like me. Or Coulson. Or any of us.”

“You’re right,” Marcie nodded. “But of course, Hydra might not even have the resources--”

“Coulson says they can always find other people to do their dirty work for them. They always have,” she added wistfully. “But, anyway, I just wanted to--”

“That’s okay,” said Marcie. “You can ask me any favors, any time.”

“Right, and, well, if you ever need anything--”

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Hillary,” said Marcie. “You saved my life. I’m not gonna forget that.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Hillary said, blushing. “But thanks anyway. You have a good one.”

“You too.” 

 

At dinner on Wednesday night, Hillary noticed for the first time the silence that reigned at the table when it was just her and her parents.

“You know what,” said Hillary, putting her fork down, “I miss Bucky. It seems a little too quiet around here without him.”

“You’re right, it is too quiet,” said Trey.

“Well, what’s there to talk about?” asked her mother.

“You’ve already asked us both about work,” said Hillary, “and we asked you how your day went. It just seems like nothing’s happening around here.” They all fell silent again. 

Then, she had an idea. “Dad, have you decorated the garage for Christmas yet?”

“No, I haven’t, actually,” he said. He looked her in the eyes, and she could tell he knew what she was thinking.

“Who’s in charge of that, usually?”

“Whoever has a spare minute on their hands,” said Trey. “I can’t normally pay my regular employees to stay extra hours to decorate. But, you know, now that I have an extra hand around there whose work is devoted to secondary tasks of that sort…” He smiled like the Grinch thinking of how to steal Christmas.

“Do you think he knows how to decorate for Christmas, though, after being brainwashed for seventy years?” asked Hillary.

“A good question,” said Trey. “I’ll bet you, though, that he’d know how to, once someone got him started.”

“Why don’t we invite him over to help us decorate for Christmas?” said Hillary.

“I was just thinking of that. That sounds like a good idea. And we can have Mike and Susan come over and bring the kids. And Jon and Marie. They can help us.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Hillary.

“But when would we want to do that?” said Jo. “I have a meeting tomorrow night.”

“And how long does that go until?”

“Seven-thirty or eight.”

“Well, that’s not terribly late,” said Trey. “You can make refreshments beforehand, Hillary can do the apple cider and hot chocolate, and I’ll see to it Bucky behaves himself.”

“Fair enough,” said Hillary.

“As long as you save the Christmas village for me,” said Jo.

 

On Thursday, Jo Tanner cleaned the house before leaving for her evening meeting. Trey and Bucky came by right as she was leaving, and she heated up some leftovers for them. 

After she had left and they had eaten, Trey said, “Well, let’s get this party started. Mike and Susan texted me a while ago saying they’d be here at six-thirty.”

“What about Hillary?”

“She’s on her way. She went to pick up some groceries for us. I’ll take your plate.” Trey took their dishes and rinsed them in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher.

“And what’s Hillary going to eat for dinner?”

“Just casserole, of course. There’s more in the fridge.”

Trey wiped his hands dry and led Bucky out to the garage. There was a corner closet in the garage that had a white door, and Trey had to move around his dusty lawnmower to open it. Bucky was watching from a distance, but Trey called him over to help as he began to move a large cardboard box from inside the cupboard, almost three-fourths as tall as he was. 

“What is this thing?” he asked as he and Trey hauled the large object onto their shoulders.

“Oh, it’s a Christmas Tree. You’ll see it better once we get it set up.”

There was a picture on the box, but he never got a good look at it before they started carrying it.

When he had arrived earlier, he had noticed a space in the living room cleared out along the wall between the armchair and the couch. That was the space where they set the box. 

They then went back to the garage. From under the tool bench they retrieved a large plastic box. They took this to the living room and placed it near the first. When they returned to the garage for a third box, Hillary’s car was pulling up in the driveway.

“Do you guys want some help?” asked Hillary, carrying a bag of groceries in one arm.

“No, we’re good,” said Trey. “You go put the groceries away. There’s leftover casserole in the fridge.”

Bucky gave Hillary a smile, but she only partly returned it. She put some casserole on a plate and heated in the microwave while she put away the few groceries she had brought home. She watched her father and Bucky carrying boxes into the living room from the garage as she ate.

“You wanna go get those boxes of ornaments from the closet?” Trey asked her when she had finished eating.

“Sure,” she said. She got the requested boxes from the garage closet and set them in the living room, as she did so savoring the smell of packed-away Christmas.

Trey opened the tree box and started setting the branch pieces on the floor. Bucky picked up one or two of them and examined them.

“This is the strangest tree I have ever seen,” he commented. “It’s not a live tree, is it?”

Hillary suppressed a chuckle. 

“No, it’s not,” Trey said, smiling. “We haven’t had a live tree in years, not since Hillary was a baby. A fake tree isn’t as much of a fire hazard when you put lights and stuff on it.” He pulled out the tree stand. “Here we go. Bucky, move the tree stuff out of the way. We’re going to set it up right here.”

Bucky did as he was told. He wanted to ask what the tree was for and why they used it to celebrate Christmas. He knew the Tanners would have given him an answer had he asked. But he was more concerned about sounding stupid, which he did a lot when he asked questions at the garage. So he resolved to remain silent.

On top of the tree stand went a green pole with holes bored into it all over. Then came what Trey called the “fun part,” where he and Hillary tried to figure out which of the artificial branches went where.

“Bucky, do you know where letter D is?” asked Hillary. “Is it over there?” She looked at him.

But he only stared back blankly.

“What?”

“What is it you need?”

“I need the tree branch marked D,” said Hillary. “The tree branches are labeled alphabetically.”

He looked at the branches scattered on the floor around him. “Well, I, erm, I don’t know which one it is.”

“The letter should be marked on the hook at the end of the branch. You see the yellow circle?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Can you find me the one with the D on it?”

“Let me see,” he said, sorting through the branches. But he examined about five or six of them without success.

“Well, that’s okay,” said Hillary. “Just pass those branches in our general direction, and we can figure out the rest.”

Bucky gathered the tree branches and set them next to Trey and Hillary’s work space. Sometimes they would call for him to find another piece for them, just to dig through and see if a specific one they pointed to was the one they needed. As they inserted the branches one by one, he was beginning to see a replica tree taking shape, a tall fir about four feet high. Finally, the last remaining piece was a bush two or three feet high that already had its branches attached, though it shrank towards the top like a cone.

“You can put the last piece on, Bucky,” said Hillary. Trey helped him fasten it into place. Then they set about pulling and bending and straightening the fuzzy green limbs on all of the branches so that it looked full and realistic. Trey pulled out a box and found a tangle of wires with small lights attached. He and Hillary and Bucky had just set out unwinding them when two people Bucky didn’t know entered through the garage. They had with them two small children, a small toddler boy and a girl with a puffy pink coat and curly blonde pigtails. He moved himself behind the tree to observe. Hillary and Trey ran to embrace the young couple and scoop up their little ones. 

“Papa, where is Granny?” asked the little girl.

“She’s at a meeting at the church right now, but Grandpa gets to stay here and help you decorate his house for Christmas,” Trey explained.

The man who had entered was tall and lanky like Trey. He walked into the living room. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he said, surveying the tree. He only stopped for a moment when he saw the man hiding behind it. “Oh, hey, who is this?”

The woman had curly brown hair and was trying to keep the toddler from attacking a box of ornaments, but she looked over her shoulder when her husband spoke.

Trey stepped in, still carrying the little girl in his arms. “Jon, I’d like you to meet Bucky. He’s a homeless guy I’ve just picked up to work at the Garage. Bucky, this is my son Jon and his wife Marie and their children.”

“Hi,” said Bucky, extending his hand to shake with Jon.

“How do you do?” said Jon, returning the handshake. He had a goatee and wore glasses. Marie walked up to shake hands, but said nothing.

“Jon and Marie went to her family in Utah for Thanksgiving last week, which is why you haven’t met them, yet,” Trey explained to Bucky.

“Grandpa, the Christmas Tree is so big!” said the little girl.

“Yes it is, Maddie,” said Trey, holding her up to let her handle the branches. “Grandpa’s put it up already so we can decorate it now. Did you decorate your house for Christmas yet?”

“I never, I never seen the Christmas tree before,” said Maddie.

“We’re waiting until this weekend to go up to Pinetop and cut a live one,” said Jon.

Hillary saw that the toddler was trying to get into mischief again and scooped him in her arms. “Hello, Tayson, how are you?” she said to him. He only tried to squirm away.

“I’ll take him,” said Marie, taking the infant, who reached for her willingly.

“Hillary, you might want to get out the refreshments your mom made earlier,” said Trey. “There’s a plate of fresh cookies in the cupboard above the stove. And you can get started on the drinks.”

“Right,” said Hillary, retreating to the kitchen.

“Can I go help her?” Bucky asked her.

“You and Jon can help me untangle these lights,” said Trey, picking up the light string from where he had left it on the ground. 

“I wanna help, Daddy,” said little Maddie.

“You let Daddy help Grandpa,” said Marie to her daughter. “Why don’t you go help Aunt Hillary in the kitchen?” She gave Maddie an encouraging push. 

But Hillary didn’t have anything for Maddie to do except to unwrap the saran wrap from off the cookie plate, so she set Maddie on a bar stool and let her start munching on cookies, and served her a glass of milk.

Mudder the cat had entered the room. He meowed when he saw the milk on the counter, and with no one to stop him, he jumped up onto the bar. 

“Dang cat! Get offa my cookies!” shouted Maddie. 

“Mudder, you leave her alone,” said Hillary, picking up Mudder. She opened the screen door and threw him out unceremoniously, but he returned to paw at the glass.

Jon, Trey, and Bucky wrapped the lights around the tree while Marie held on to baby Tayson. It took a few minutes of negotiating the metal branches, with Bucky accidentally detaching a few of them in the process. But when all was settled Trey Tanner plugged in the cord, and the three men stood back to survey the results. 

“Whoa!” Maddie said very loudly through a mouth full of cookie. Hillary looked up from the pan of water she was warming on the stove. Sometimes she wished that they didn’t bother decorating the tree beyond putting on the lights. The lights alone were enchanting.

“Not bad,” Jon nodded.

Bucky looked like he couldn’t quite find the words.

“Good work, team,” said Trey. “Now, we can start unpacking the boxes.”

“Is the hot chocolate ready yet?” Jon called over to the kitchen.

“It’s still warming up,” said Hillary. She had set out several cocoa mugs on the counter.

Then Mike and Susan and their family entered. Maddie, her face covered with runny chocolate from the cookies, jumped down from the bar stool to embrace her “favoritest cousin ever” Linsey. Mike and Susan exchanged greetings with Trey and Bucky, and Susan promptly poured herself a glass of water and sat down on the couch next to Marie. The men set to work pulling things out of boxes.

“Hey, we need a little Christmas music in here,” said Trey. “Hillary, put some Christmas music on the speakers.”

“Got it,” she said, eyeing the pot of water that was coming to a boil. Reaching into a cupboard she pulled out David Archuleta’s Christmas album from several years ago. 

Linsey and Oliver helped themselves to the cookies as Hillary turned off the heat. “Okay, who wants what?” she asked them. “I’ve got hot chocolate and apple cider.”

“Cider for me,” said Trey.

“Cider sounds good,” said Mike. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” said Susan.

“Hot chocolate’s fine with me,” said Marie.

“Same here,” said Jon.

“I want some hot chocolate!” said Linsey.

“Me too!” said Maddie. They both sat at the bar, stuffing their faces with cookies.

“Okay, you girls have had way too many cookies,” said Hillary, pulling the plate away from them. 

“I want some apple cider,” said Oliver.

“I want the rainbow mug!” said Maddie, grabbing a striped mug from the group in front of her.

“I want the pink mug!” said Linsey, taking the one she wanted.

“Bucky, do you want anything?” Hillary called out to him.

“Huh?” he gave her a befuddled expression.

“Do you want hot chocolate or apple cider?”

“Oh, er, whichever is fine,” he shrugged.

“Would you like some hot chocolate?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She got him the Tanner automotive mug and poured hot chocolate mix into the hot water. Bucky followed Mike to the kitchen.

“Just be careful,” Hillary warned him. “It’s kind of hot, still.”

Bucky took a tiny sip. It burned his tongue slightly. 

“So what does my Dad have you doing over there?” Jon asked him. 

“Oh, I’m just...tidying up the garage after hours. Keeping the lobby straight. This and that,” said Bucky.

“Were you picked up off the street or did dad have to go out of his way to find you?” asked Jon. 

“Well, he found me a few days ago, rooting for food in a dumpster,” Bucky nodded. “There’s not much to my story, actually,” he said. He attempted another sip from the steaming mug. It was cooler now. “So what do you do?”

“I’m an engineer for Boeing. I design airplanes.”

“Oh, aircraft. That’s cool.”

“You ever been in any?”

“Sometimes, but not recently.”

“You look like you’ve been out on the streets awhile.”

“Hm, I’ve been here and there.”

“Yeah, well, my job really isn’t that glamorous. Just improving features for safety, mostly.”

Hillary called out to see if no one wanted any more to drink, and hearing that all were satisfied she returned to the living room and helped her dad start putting round baubles on the Christmas tree. Hillary got a box of them and passed them out to her family members. Marie went digging through another box to find the plastic hooks.

“So what are these?” Bucky asked as Hillary handed him a shiny red ball.

“These are Christmas balls,” said Hillary. “You put them on the tree.”

“What for?”

“To decorate the tree with.”

“Yes, but, do they do anything?” He scrutinized his reflection in the plastic ball’s surface.

“Er, I don’t know.”

Marie came over and looked at one. “I think they’re to help reflect the light from off the tree,” she said. “Or maybe to add color.”

Linsey and Maddie and Oliver put on two or three balls each, all of them spaced close together on the same side of the tree, and then they promptly lost interest and began digging through the other decorations inside one of the big boxes. Oliver found the Santa hats and put one on his head. Maddie found a long garland of greenery and began pulling it out and wrapping it around herself like a sash, along with a long string of beads. Baby Tayson wandered over and began chewing on the end of the green garland. Bucky noticed them. He thought the four children looked very silly. He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Trey. The grown-ups saw him looking in the direction of the children.

“Maddie, you put those down this instant!” said Marie.

“Mommy, I look pretty!” said Maddie, waving the ends of the garlands in the air. Linsey caught the free end and wrapped them around her neck.

“No, honey, you’ll choke yourself!” Marie went to disentangle the two children. Tayson began to cry when she took away his newfound toy, but he quieted as she picked him up and rocked him. Susan got up off the couch and opened a shoebox full of decorated pine cones. 

“Here, you can put the pine cones on the tree,” said Susan, pulling some out of the box and giving some to Oliver and Linsey.

Susan helped the three older children put the pine cones on the tree. She supervised them opening another box, which contained red bows with white lace. Susan stuffed a few bows into Bucky’s hand and gave a few to Hillary before putting some on herself. She helped Linsey to set her bows just right so they were tucked between the joints of the branches. After a few minutes, she decided to sit down on the couch again. Marie was still holding on to Tayson and sat down with her.

“So how old is Tayson, now, eighteen months?” asked Susan.

“He’ll be nineteen months next week,” Marie declared.

“Ah. Already? Gosh, I’m so ready to have this one,” she said, rubbing her formidable baby bump. “He really likes to kick.”

“Wow. I so admire you, Susan,” said Marie. “I don’t know if I’m ready to have another one yet.”

“Do you think you’re going to?” 

“I think we will,” Marie nodded. “I’m just not sure I’m ready yet, or if Jon’s ready yet, or even if little Tayson here is ready yet. But we will be, sooner or later.”

“You know, you probably could get started soon,” Susan ventured, “and that way, this one and your next one won’t be far apart in age.”

Marie nodded. “I’d like that, I really would, but you know what, when you get older, age really doesn’t make a difference to who you’re close to. But we’ve thought about it. What it comes down to is that we’re just not ready. Maybe give it a few more months.”

“Well, it’s been my experience, it doesn’t really matter how old you are, if you’re close to someone.” She shared a few recollections about an older cousin of hers that she shared a close relationship with. Bucky cast a few glances at them as they talked, but mostly minded his own business as he continued to decorate the tree. 

The back door opened and Jo entered the house. The children ran up to their granny to embrace her, and she set her purse on the table and rolled up her sleeves to join the decorating.

They had moved on to adding snowflakes to the tree. The snowflakes wereof varying shape and size, some covered with glitter or sequins. About half of the snowflakes were blue, and the white lights reflected the blue color onto the entire tree.

Oliver was playing with a white snowflake made from plastic shaped into intricate arabesques and points. “Can I keep this one, Grandma?” he said, looking up at Jo.

“I’m afraid not, Oliver, you’ve already borrowed enough of our decorations. Maybe your mother could find you a snowflake just like it.”

Jon was digging through the decorations box when he came upon an old grocery bag stuffed with blue and silver foil. 

“Are we ready to add the tinsel yet?” he asked them.

“No,” said Trey. “Let’s get the icicles on here, first. Can you find the icicles?”

“Here they are,” said Jon, pulling out a tiny gift bag with hooks coming out of the end. The hooks were attached to semblances of icicles made from plastic. Bucky was handed two. He hesitated for a moment, staring at them, and then he put them on the tree. But he did not take more of them. The children found a box of figurines that had strings attached to them, and Hillary helped them to put them carefully on the tree. When Bucky approached her, she handed him a figurine of what looked like a rag doll of some sort made from a ceramic material. He hung it higher up in the tree, halfway inside the branches.

The next ornament he got from her was a miniature stuffed animal, a bear. There was a little wooden sign attached to it.

“What does this say?” he asked Hillary.

“‘Baby’s First Christmas, 199_.’ This is my brother Cody’s.” She dug into the box. “Oh, look, here’s mine.” It was a figure of an angel carrying a small picture frame, and in it a tiny picture of a sleeping baby with dark hair.

”Wow, that’s you?”

“You found the baby’s first Christmas ornaments?” asked Jon.

“I want mine,” said Mike.

“I want to see it,” said Susan, standing up. Susan stood close by as Mike pulled out a picture frame made to look like a steam locomotive and showed it to her. Jon’s was a toy soldier. Hillary placed onto the tree a silver frame etched with pictures of a doll and some building blocks that had a picture of her sister Julia. 

The decoration box they had been going through was nearly empty, so Mike opened the lid of another one. Lying on top was a circle of imitation evergreen boughs.

“Mom, does the door have a hook for the wreath?”

“There’s a hook inside the box,” said Jo. She sighed. “I keep forgetting to buy a hook so we can hang stuff on our front door year-round.”

“Next year, Mom,” said Hillary.

“Or you could just keep that one there all year,” said Jon as Mike opened the front door, which was rarely used by the household.

“Yes, but what does one hang as a door decoration in January?”

No one had an answer to that. Linsey and Oliver looked into the decoration box and saw a pile of neatly-folded red cloth. They took the cloth out of the box, and squealed with delight when they saw that they were Christmas stockings.

“Mom, mom, we found the stockings!” said Oliver. “Look!”

“Yes those are grandma’s stockings,” said Susan. “Don’t play too roughly with them.”

But ignoring his mother’s caution, Oliver proceeded to pull two of the big stockings over his shoes and walk around in them. The little girls laughed uproariously at him. Linsey wanted to try, and she and Maddie made a go for the remaining stockings to attempt the stunt. 

“No, Maddie! We do not put those on our feet!” said Marie, swooping down to snatch the stockings. “Oliver, you take those off right this minute!”

“Marie, I sewed those myself so they would be indestructible,” said Jo. “Jon and Mike and the girls used to play in those all the time when they were little.”

Hillary got into the second box. She unwrapped something from brown tissue paper. “Here’s the tree angel. Is she ready to go on top?”

“I think so,” said Trey.

Bucky thought at first that it was some kind of a doll. The doll had a china head and hands and large white wings. She had an elaborate white dress with puffed sleeves and gold trimmings but no feet, just a sort of stand for a base. And she held in one outstretched arm a long staff that ended with a brilliant silver star. 

Either his mind was playing tricks or he had seen that angel’s face somewhere before.

Hillary handed the angel to Trey. He lifted the angel to the top of the tree, and attaching a plug that dangled from her base, turned on a light that illuminated the star in her hand.

“What’s in this box?” said Oliver. He and Linsey turned their attention to one of the untouched plastic tubs.

“Those are the outside decorations,” said Jo. “Don’t you get into those.”

Trey and Mike had started to arrange the blue and silver tinsel on the tree. Hillary turned her attention to the piano. Inside one of the shoeboxes was a nativity set of tall, painted figurines. She found a green mantle for the top of the piano and a stand for the nativity. She cleared off the top of the piano and set the stand in the middle. She put the mantle over it and then added a square sheet of white cotton that she set diagonally. The nativity set went on its stand. Then she replaced the usual decoration on top of it, and added a chorus of glass angels with musical instruments, a miniature tree that was already decorated, and a festive set of candles and candlesticks complete with floral wraps. 

Jo got Bucky to help her with the credenza in the front hallway. There were two nativity sets, some candles, and a statue of Santa Claus in his red sleigh. 

Mike set up temporary plastic hooks on the walls of the living room. Most of them were close to the ceiling. Jon went after them to add the garlands that the children had been playing with earlier. Bucky also lent assistance hanging five long brass hooks off the top of the bookcase in the living room. On top of this Marie put a poinsettia garland. 

“What are the hooks for?” Bucky asked her.

“For the Christmas stockings.”

Jo put a salt and pepper shaker on the table that were made to imitate a Christmas tree and a snowman. Linsey brought a table centerpiece that was a bowl of artificial red and white roses with berries in them.

“Granny, how does Santa Claus come to your house if you don’t have a chimney?” she asked.

“He uses his magic to unlock the screen door. That’s how,” said Jo.

“But he’s supposed to come down the chimney. Isn’t that easier if his reindeer and sleigh are on the roof?”

“Really? Because I thought going down a chimney was harder for him? Most houses don’t have screen doors like ours.”

“But teacher says he has a big heavy bag full of toys for children. Wouldn’t that be hard to move?”

“His bag is magic, too, so he can carry it anywhere he wants.”

Marie laughed. “I like the version in The Santa Clause where he can squeeze through any opening in a roof and make a fireplace appear for him to step out.”

“We should watch that again sometime,” said Jo. 

Trey handed Bucky the Christmas stockings. “You can hang these up on the hooks you just put up. No particular order.”

The stockings were made of a fuzzy red material and had a white trim at the top, etched with letters. He accidentally almost pulled down one of the hooks, but managed to catch it right before it fell, and he slid it back and replaced the garland, very aware that as he stretched his left arm the metal of his wrist was showing.

Jo pulled from the nearly-empty decoration box a tall metal tree cut into a spiral cone. She placed this on the end of the counter where it met the kitchen wall. Then she grabbed a stool and asked Bucky to help her by handing up the last bunch of decorative figurines, a sleigh and some reindeer to pull it.

“Hillary, can you clear off the side table in the living room? I’m putting the Christmas Village in there.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Hillary. There was a side table in the living room next to the couch, about a foot square or more that the Tanners set their keys and such down on. Hillary moved the junk unceremoniously to the counter. Jo got off the stool, Bucky taking her by the hand, and then went to set up her Christmas Village. It was in a large box separate from the others. 

“I think this is the last bit,” said Jo as she opened it. 

“Granny, can I help you?” asked Maddie.

“Yes, but if you’re very careful.” She and Maddie spread a small white fleece over the table, and then out came the figurines. Most of them were houses, one was a city hall and a toy shop, and there was a small gazebo that went in the center. Maddie got to put the trees and bushes around the village. Jo put on the figurines: men and women strolling around on a snowy day, children playing in snow, a man leading a horse, a man sawing wood, a group singing Christmas carols. 

Bucky came close to watch them, and he turned to look at the figures that remained in the box. One of them caught his eye. It was a man and a woman dressed in winter garb and leaning over to kiss on the lips. He picked it up to look at it closely.

“Where is that one?” Jo asked as she rummaged through the box. She picked up a lamp post that had a wreath on it, and then she looked behind. “Oh, you’ve got it, Bucky. Can I see it?”

Bucky handed over the figurine, and Jo placed it with the lamp post on the edge of the Christmas village.

“So do you want any help putting up the Christmas lights outside, Dad?” asked Jon.

“Naw,” said Trey, sitting down on the couch. “I’ll take care of them next week. I’ll bring Bucky along to help me--you want to come over again next week, Bucky?” he asked, turning up to look at him.

“Sure,” Bucky nodded. He had stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Well, we’d better be getting home, then,” said Marie, picking up baby Tayson and resting him on her hip. “Thanks for letting us come over, Mom.”

“Your visits are always a pleasure, honey,” said Jo.

“And it was nice meeting you, Bucky,” said Jon, nodding at him. Bucky nodded back.

Mike and Susan’s family decided it was time for them to be headed out, too. Oliver came up to Bucky and said goodbye, and he held out his hand to him. “Can I get a high-five?”

“Sure.” Bucky gave Oliver a high-five with his right hand. 

“I want one, too,” said Linsey, walking over. And then Maddie came after her and wanted one too.

“Those kids,” said Jo as they walked out. “They sure have warmed up to you.”

“Well, they didn’t need to,” said Bucky, sitting down at the bar. He grabbed a cookie and chewed it thoughtfully. 

“So are you sleeping over tonight?” Jo asked him.

“I guess so.”

Trey nodded. “Yeah, he’s staying over. I’ll take him back to the shop tomorrow.”

“Well, your room should be ready, then,” said Jo.

Hillary sat down at the piano and opened a book. She started playing music. Bucky walked up to her. There were words on the page, but they were arranged around lines and lines marked with strange symbols.

“What are those?” Bucky asked, interrupting her.

“What?”

“The lines and markings. What are they?”

“Those are music notes,” said Hillary. “They record the music.”

“What song are you playing?”

“It’s called ‘O, Holy Night.’ It’s a Christmas song.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” 

He listened as she played through the song, and she turned the page of the music and began a different one. He listened to her playing while Trey and Jo sat in the corner, talkingquietly. Only occasionally did he see them glance up, and when they did it was either at Hillary or himself. When he went to bed, and it was a short while later that he did so, she was still playing, and as he lay awake he could hear her music, and rather than bothering him it pleased him. Some of the songs, he could have sworn, sounded familiar...

The next day after work, Hillary checked her Facebook and saw this on the top of her news feed:

Jane Foster Astrophysicist:  
So we set up our Christmas tree here in the apartment the other night. Yesterday I came home from work and I noticed there were some dark spots on the tree skirt. Today I went to fix an ornament I noticed that was lopsided and felt water droplets on the branch. I asked Thor where the water could possibly have come from, and he said that he had WATERED THE TREE that afternoon. I think he's just confused because last year we had a live tree and this one is plastic. LOL I love him anyway.

Darcy Lewis: *dies laughng*

Thor Odinson: These plastic trees of Yultide bear an uncanny resemblance to true conifers! Do you not blame me, mortals?

Tony Stark: Control yourself, meatswing. It was an honest mistake ;) 

Thor Odinson: You dare mock me, man of Iron?

Natasha Romanoff: Aw, Thor, I didn't know you were so considerate

Jo walked into the room at that precise moment and asked her daughter what she was laughing at. 

“Some mutual friends of ours are fairly clueless about Christmas. Not as bad as Bucky, but pretty badly.”

 

At Tanner Automotive on Friday night, Trey Tanner got the garage’s Christmas decorations out of a locked closet in the far corner. Bucky helped drag the boxes into the office.

“There’s a big tree for the lounge and smaller one for the break room,” said Trey. “You’ll find lights and decorations for both of them. The decorations for the big tree are in this box,” he said, pointing to the one with the red lid, “and the ones for the small one are in the other one,” pointing to the one with a green lid. “There are also table decorations and wreaths for the doors in the red box. You can get started as soon as the rest of the garage is cleaned.” He gave a few final instructions to Bucky and bid him good night.

Bucky turned on the radio. It had been left on a station that played mostly Christmas music. One particularly annoying song, “It’s Cold Outside,” got played twice within two hours. 

After cleaning the bathroom and sweeping the floors, he vacuumed the lounge and the office and then opened the boxes of Christmas Decorations The tree was already in one piece inside its box, and he only had to set it up on its stand and straighten the limbs. Most of the decorations for this tree were bright red, and included small stuffed gingerbread men, Santa Clauses, and toy cars. He tried to avoid returning eye contact with his reflection in the baubles.

A slow song came on the radio with a line that repeated, “Where are you, Christmas?” After the song was over, he continued decorating, but the words, “Where are you, Christmas?” and the gentle melody stayed in his mind and repeated themselves as he set up the miniature tree in the break room. The mini tree had garlands of blue and silver tinsel and little toys to go on it. There was also a plush ornament that mystified him: it looked like a tree, but it had eyes and a mouth, and as he examined it he pressed it in the wrong spot and it started singing loudly, “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…” and he dropped the object in terror. When it had stopped moving, he very carefully replaced it in the box it had come from. He set up the wreaths on the doors to the break room and the lounge, and as he did so “Where Are You, Christmas?” came on the radio again. He stopped and listened. 

Hillary had had a late night at the office, and as she drove home and listened to that particular station, she heard “Where Are You, Christmas?” and wondered if Bucky was asking himself the same question. She was wondering the same thing, wondering if Christmas would be the same with this stranger being taken in by her family. She had sheet music for that particular song, and she played it that night before she went to bed. 

Adam Blake volunteered to take him home for the weekend that Saturday afternoon. He had a modest home and let Bucky sleep on the couch. Adam’s wife and daughter, Kristen and Chase, gave Bucky a wide berth during the day Sunday. Chase, was seven years old and liked princess dolls. While they were gone for various church meetings during the day, Adam and Bucky sat on the couch and watched football on television and drank energy drinks that gave him a headache. Adam didn’t mind that Bucky avoided talking about his past. He explained football to him so he could at least understand what he was watching. 

On Tuesday night, Trey Tanner brought Bucky home with him again to help him set up the outside decorations at his house. They spent the late evening hours stringing a set of LED lights around his gutter from the top of a pair of ladders, and then they placed an inflatable snowman and some reindeer made from lights on the lawn. It was cool after the sun went down but not terribly cold. They went inside for some hot chocolate. Hillary was playing the piano. 

She began playing a song that had a stately, march-like quality to it, and not only was Bucky impressed by this music, but something about it struck him as familiar. He stood up and watched her playing.

“Do you know this one?” she asked him.

“What is it?”

“It’s called, ‘Oh Come, all Ye Faithful.’ It’s a Christmas hymn, about the birth of Jesus.”

“Are there words?”

“Do you think you might know them?”

He shrugged. “Give it a try.”

She started playing, and sang while she played, looking at him. 

“Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,  
Oh come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem.  
Come and behold him…”

She nodded in time to the music as she played. He began to nod with her. And then his mouth opened, trying to echo the words to see if they would come of their own accord. 

“..born the king of angels.  
Oh come let us adore him,  
Oh come let us adore him,  
Oh come let us adore him,  
Christ the Lord.” 

By the last line, he was singing audibly. “Well, do you think you know the words?”

“Well, there’s that last bit that repeats,” said Bucky. He broke off, looking at the floor. “It seems...it seems…”

“It seems what?”

“It seems almost familiar to me. I’ve heard the melody before, somewhere, definitely. And the words...It’s like I almost remember them.”

“Either you do or you don’t, Bucky,” Hillary shook her head. “Stop playing with me. I’ll play the rest for you.”

Bucky didn’t recall the words of the other two verses, but he listened carefully to them, trying to connect them to those memories of his past that were definitely somewhere inside him, but locked behind pain and sorrow that he didn’t understand either.

“Bucky, you want to feed the cat?” asked Trey when Hillary finished playing.

“Sure,” said Bucky. Trey opened the screen door to admit Mudder. Mudder dashed into the house and went straight for the utility room. Bucky followed him and poured him a healthy serving of dry cat food. 

Bucky returned to the living room to sit on the couch while Hillary continued playing the piano. After a few minutes, Mudder returned to the room. He stretched on crossing from the kitchen tile to the living room carpet, and yawned, showing off his claws and his sharp white teeth. Bucky returned his attention to the piano, but then felt something shaking the couch cushion. Mudder stood on the couch and rubbed himself against his metal arm. 

Bucky was unsure what to do at first, and held his hand up hesitantly in case he needed to brush the cat away. But Mudder sank his head beneath his hand and ran his entire back through it like a comb. And then Bucky flexed his feelingless fingers in the cat’s fur. The cat started making a rumbling noise, and he rubbed his head contentedly against Bucky’s chest. Gradually, Bucky began to stroke Mudder ‘s back and Mudder sat down on his lap.

“Is Mudder bothering you?” asked Trey.

“No, it’s fine,” said Bucky, smiling a little.

Hillary had paused her playing to look. “I think he likes you,” she said. 

The song that Hillary played had an upbeat melody, but she alternated the rhythm between long and longing and skipping her fingers. 

“Not bad,” said Trey when she had finished playing. “Is that a new arrangement?”

“I improvised it a little, actually.”

“I’ve heard this one on the radio,” Bucky said. The cat climbed off his lap to curl up on a corner of the couch. “I think it’s called ‘There’s no place like home for the holidays.’”

Hillary squinted at him a little. “Right.”

 

The next weekend, Bucky spent Saturday night and Sunday with his coworker, Benny. Benny took him to a bar on Saturday evening, and they spent several hours carousing with Benny’s friends. At about nine o’clock, Benny’s companions decided to go visit another bar a few blocks away. They laughed and hooted in a gaggle on the sidewalk as they went, staggering, but Bucky stayed a few steps behind. After the stifling environment of the bar he felt he needed some fresh air. He’d taken about as many beers as the rest of them, but still did not feel himself growing dizzy or ill the way other drunk people he had encountered before acted. 

The air was cool, and the few stars that could be seen above the city lights were bright. He looked up at the night sky and thought about how far he had come in the past few months. And not surprisingly, his mind lingered back to his encounter with Captain America...

 

“Thanks, God bless you, have a Merry Christmas,” he said, waving behind him to the people at the doors of the Arms of Mercy Community Action center. Turning to Sam he said, “Well, it was nice to finally visit these people in person.”

Sam laughed. 

“What?”

“I can’t get over how that one lady nearly fainted when she realized you were Captain America,” said Sam.

“I get that a lot,” said Steve modestly.

“Did people really treat you like that back then?”

“Not even close,” said Steve. “I was a celebrity then, but now...it’s different. I’ve really made a difference now that I’m back.”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” said Sam.

“Are you ever jealous of me?”

“Naw,” said Sam. “It’s not my place to want to share the spotlight...okay, maybe I’m a little jealous.”

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” said Steve. “I know I’d be if it were me.” He smiled to himself and added, “Bucky was always jealous. Mostly because the girls seemed to pay more attention to me than to him.”

“Lucky for him you weren’t interested.”

“Yeah, right.” He gave Sam a playful shove in the ribs.

Sam’s phone rang, and he walked toward their car parked down the block as he answered. Steve watched him walk away, and then he paused for a moment, looking at the ground and then at the sky.

Where are you, my friend? he thought to himself. Are you under that same sky, somewhere? Alone? In the cold? Or are you safe and warm?

Steve sighed, watching his breath turn into mist that curled around his face. He heard Sam turning on the car and walked down the sidewalk to join him.

In the car, Sam hung up his phone and began driving. “You know, Steve, I know you’re probably disappointed that we haven’t found him yet.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“But you know what, we’ve only got a few more weeks until Christmas. I’ve been out doing this with you off and on since April. I'm working overtime on this when you're out with the Avengers. And I haven’t seen my family in a while.”

“We saw them at Thanksgiving,” Steve reminded him.

“That was only for a few days. But I’m thinking you know what, maybe the reason we haven’t found Bucky yet is because he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Do you think I don’t--”

“Yes, I understand, Steve, he’s your friend and you want the best for him, but you need to cut him some slack. Maybe he’s not ready yet. I was thinking, how would you like to come with my family for Christmas? Let’s go see my sister in Harlem. It’s pretty close to whoever you know that’s in Brooklyn. And of course, the Avengers. They’ll be happy to have you. And who knows? Maybe after the holidays are over, Bucky will feel ready to come out of wherever he’s hiding, and we’ll have a few more leads to go off of, maybe. You think?”

“Well, I--”

“We don’t have to head back east right away. We can just double-check at a couple of other places where he might have been and then go hang out in New York for a couple of weeks. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve shrugged. “You know, I’m sorry if you feel like I’m--”

“Dragging me all over the place? yes, but that’s okay, I volunteered for this. I’m just worried about you. You act a little like a workaholic sometimes.”

“I know. I’m just trying to get things done.”

Sam shook his head. “So what’re you going to do after you’ve saved Bucky? Got that part figured out yet?”

“I dunno. Continue keeping the world safe, that’s about as far as I’ve gotten.”

“And can I do that with you, too?”

“If you want.”

Steve turned on the radio. After a few minutes of listening to “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas”, he spoke up again.

“How about that girl Grace?”

“The one who commented about your thank-you note?”

“Yeah. What did you think of her?”

“What did I tHINK of her, or what did I think of HER?”

“I mean, what do you think her part was in all of this? She seemed like she might be hiding something.”

“Ha, I didn’t notice anything. Seems mighty suspicious though, that she was the one person that Bucky spent the most time with when he was at the shelter.”

“Right. She didn’t act like she knew anything about him. Frankly I would’ve been surprised if he had told her anything.”

“Hm, come to think of it she didn’t seem surprised to see us,” said Sam. “But maybe she figured it out--”

“Right. But did you notice that she seemed a little...upset, when we mentioned him? How she walked out of the room?”

“You’re right. But I don’t think--”

“Well, I do,” said Steve. “The Bucky I knew would definitely have--”

“Uh-huh.” Sam sighed. “Poor girl.”

“But something doesn’t add up here,” said steve. “Normally, the girls in our neighborhood who got jilted by him just got over it in a day or two, he never had much to do with them.”

“Grace and Bucky were together for much longer than--”

“I know. And then why would he just...leave…? It doesn’t make sense.” He trailed off and stared out the window. 

 

In a house in a posh Mesa neighborhood, the Tanners were celebrating the birthday of their cousin Madison with their extended family. The birthday girl and her peers were on the living room floor playing with her presents, and the grown-ups were scattered around the couches and the kitchen making lively talk--lively, that is, for everyone except Grandma Agnes. 

“Just have a glass of water, Mom,” said Jo, giving her a tall glass of ice water. “You might be coming down with a cold.”

“I should hope not,” said Grandma Agnes, rubbing her forehead. “Where’s my ibuprofen?”

“The doctor says you can’t take ibuprofen anymore, Mom,” said Kevin Tanner, the birthday girl’s father.

“Oh, shush, anyone can take ibuprofen!” Agnes reached for her cane. Hillary watched her from beside her uncle Kevin.

“But, Mom, your heart condition--”

“Kevin, just don’t say anything about it,” said Aunt Laura. She turned her attention to Hillary. “So how is work treating you, Hillary, darling?”

“It’s going good,” said Hillary, nodding eagerly. “I’ve been talking with my new boss over some training materials he’s been having me read, but of course a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s policies are being changed right now, so we have a lot to talk about.”

Her sister Julia and brother-in-law Greg were seated on the couch across from her. “That’s right, because of the big conspiracy thing that happened in April,” Julia nodded.

“Yeah. Coulson wants to have a lot more transparency in our reporting and disclosure so that sort of thing doesn’t happen again. And he’s an honest sort of guy, so he’ll make it work.”

“Well, not to be changing the subject so fast,” said Julia, “but how about that homeless fellow you guys took in, what was his name, Bucky? How is he doing?”

You actually didn’t change the subject at all, Hillary thought. “Oh, he’s doing great,” she said, putting on a fake smile. “Isn’t he, Mom?” Her dad was off in the corner talking to Aunt Jenny and Uncle Jake. 

“Oh, yes, he’s doing wonderful,” said Jo, nodding. “Have you been to see him yet, Greg?”

“That’s right, I’ve been meaning to ask, too,” said Julia, turning to her husband.

“I haven’t been to Dad’s shop since before Thanksgiving, actually,” said Greg. “That probably means I should find an excuse to visit. Maybe I’ll bring poor Bucky lunch sometime.”

“Ah, yes, poor Bucky,” Julia shook her head.

“Poor Bucky?” said Grandma Agnes. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“I was just asking how he was, Grandma,” said Greg, shaking his hands defensively. 

It was all Hillary could do to keep from groaning and rolling off the couch. 

“So where is he tonight?” asked Julia.

“He’s with one of Trey’s associates,” said Jo. “Trey wanted to have them take turns having him on the weekends. He thought it would be good for all of them to pitch in. I believe he’s with Benny Morris this weekend.”

“Benny, that’s the black guy, right?” asked Greg.

“Yeah, that’s him,” said Jo. “But we’ll be getting him back for Christmas, Trey says. And we just set him up in Cody’s room whenever he comes over. Poor Bucky, I wonder how long it had been since he slept on a real bed before he came to us?”

Grandma Agnes let the glass of water fall out of her hands onto the floor. “Poor Bucky?” she said, staring at Jo like an angry cat about to strike a dog. “Poor Bucky? Here I am having a headache, the worst headache of my life, and all you can do is talk about some mangy, flea-bitten, homeless -- “ She began to rise out of her chair, but Jo and Kevin tried to force her back down.

“Now, Mother,” said Jo, “We haven’t forgotten you. Bucky is just a good friend that we’re trying to take care of -- “

“I won’t hear of your taking care of him, JoAnn! He is a dangerous miscreant that should be locked up and taken away, and that way you can pay attention to more important things--”

“Grandma, grandma, stop!” said Hillary, rushing to her and looking her grandmother in the eyes. “Grandma, please, just stop! Just because we’re talking about someone else doesn’t mean we aren’t concerned about you. We’ve looked after you all this time, and we will continue to do so in the future. But there’s more people in this world with problems than just you. Okay? We’re not ignoring you. We’re not threatening you.”

Aunt Laura came over with some towels to mop up the water from the carpet. Hillary bent down to help them. Jo went to get her mother-in-law another glass of water.

“Where’s my ibuprofen, JoAnn?”

“Grandma, if you need your pain medication, perhaps it’s time you went home,” said Jo.

“I should say so,” said Agnes. “Surrounded by all of these noisy children, no wonder you people can’t pay attention to me!”

“That’s right.” Jo patted her on the back.

“I can take you home, Mom,” said another one of the uncles present.

Jo Tanner looked down at her daughter as she helped Grandma Agnes from her chair. Hillary didn’t look back to see her mother until the other children scrambling to say goodbye to grandma had taken her away.

“What?” Hillary asked.

“I just thought that was well handled,” said Jo.

 

After midnight, Bucky staggered back into Benny’s dingy apartment carrying Benny by one shoulder. The position seemed familiar to him, but it was hard to remember exactly when he had carried someone--or someone had carried him--in this manner as he had to help a boozy Benny look for his keys and unlock the door.

“So here we are,” said Benny, turning on the light to show off the bare walls and threadbare furniture. “Here’s my five-star, penthouse apartment with all the nice furnishings. Here’s a tv, you wanna watch some tv?”

“No thanks,” said Bucky, looking around nervously. Benny wriggled out of his grasp but then fell forward. Bucky grabbed him again. “Do you need to throw up, man? Do you need a toilet?” Benny shook his head no, but Bucky was pretty sure he meant the opposite. He had seen this happen to Benny’s companions over the course of the night.

“Where’s your toilet?”

“Back there, down the hall to the left,” Benny slurred, trying to point. Bucky dragged him to the bathroom and all but flung him over the toilet bowl. He then stepped out into the hall and back into the living room. Benny was at the toilet for the next little while. Bucky sat down on the couch. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the one in the break room at the garage, but it was enough to sleep on.

He wondered if by the time he was on his own again he would forget what it was like to sleep on the cold hard ground with nothing but sky for a roof and dirt for a floor. He wondered at how he had failed to become drunk in spite of all of the alcohol he had consumed that night. It was well, perhaps, that he was not the sodden mess that Benny was at the moment, but that also meant he could not enjoy the pleasing effects of alcohol, whatever they were.

What exactly had Hydra done to him, he wondered?

Benny spent most of Sunday in bed or watching television on the couch while Bucky took long walks through the neighborhood. It was a rough part of town, by the looks of it, but he didn’t mind. The locals gave him a wide berth. 

Trey would joke the next week at work that perhaps it was Benny that needed to be taken care of on the weekends. 

 

During the week, Hillary saw the following on her Facebook feed.

Clint Barton:  
Hey, everyone, I'm going to be spending Christmas with Emily Bridger's aunt and Uncle in Washington State. Uncle George had an accident not long before Emily died, and his health is pretty bad right now, he's pretty much bedridden. Aunt Jean is hard-pressed to take care of him and pay the rent. My other relatives and I will be taking care of their groceries and stuff for the next little while. What the Bridgers could really use right now is some Christmas cheer, so everyone send a Christmas card to the following address:  
George and Regina Bridger 95 Redhill Road  
Spokane, WA *****

Sara Martin: Have they figured out what happened to Emily yet?

Clint Barton: Still nothing. Sorry. :( 

Hillary immediately wrote down the address and found a card, expressing her tender regrets to Emily’s aunt and uncle with wishes for a Merry Christmas in spite of their sorrows, and she put it out in her family’s mailbox. 

The next day at work she had another Skype call with Coulson.

“Hey, did you know that Agent Barton’s doing a Christmas card drive for Emily Bridger’s family?”

“Yes, I know about it,” said Coulson. “I’m going to be spending the holidays with the Bridgers, too, in fact.”

“Oh, really?” said Hillary.

“Yes, they’re very nice people. I’ve stayed with them in the past...though, that was at their ranch.”

“Yeah,” Hillary nodded. She had remembered one of Emily’s next-to-last Facebook posts being about her foster family having to sell their gorgeous ranch in southern Utah. 

“I do feel really bad for them,” said Coulson glumly. “They’re good people. They didn’t deserve any of this. But...while I’m somewhere close to the west coast, maybe I’ll take a drive to Portland and see if my old girlfriend is there.”

“The cellist?” Everyone who knew Coulson had heard of her. Hillary laughed.

“I’ve got to start somewhere. Maybe if I find her I’ll drag her out to Spokane.”

“Perhaps so. Well, that sounds like it’ll be fun. I’ll just be staying here the whole time, as usual.”

“Of course,” said Coulson. 

 

It was enchanting enough to be in London, England of all places during the holiday season. His work travels had required him to travel there that weekend before Christmas, and he decided while there that he would pay a visit to Thor. They had skyped since April, sure, but it always gave Phil Coulson great happiness to see him in person.

Thor and Jane lived in a snug little apartment in Kensington with a fireplace, and with the roaring fire and the Christmas decorations, Coulson felt the closest he had been to heaven since--well, since his near-death experience. 

“So I heard you presented your paper on the cosmic alignment,” Coulson said to Jane. “How did it go?”

“Well, no one was really that interested in the science of it, actually,” said Jane, sounding miffed. “Everyone wanted to ask about my trip to Asgard and the battle in London. My Q&A ended up going ten minutes overtime.”

“I thought you handled it very well,” said Thor reassuringly.

“Yeah, well, Selvig and Darcy and Ian were there to help me present--it was like trying to referee an angry crowd at a sporting event.” She threw up her hands. “It seems like the scientific community has lost its focus since New York.”

“Well, everyone just wants to try to understand what’s been happening.”

“But, still, she and Selvig are the only ones really studying these phenomena,” Thor nodded. “It seems like everyone wants to hear the answers but don’t trust anyone else to tell them.”

“I am sorry,” Coulson nodded, trying to sound understanding.

“It’s not your fault, Coulson,” Jane shook her head.

“So what else have you been up to?” asked Coulson. 

“Well, I’m taking a break from research for the time being, actually,” said Jane. “Thor and I just want to spend some more time together, now that the paper is together. I’m teaching a physics class at a community college here in London.”

“And we skype fairly frequently,” said Thor, “when I am off with the Avengers. But I will be here until the holidays are over. Perhaps after Yuletide there will be more clues as to where Loki’s sceptre was taken off to.”

Jane leaned on Thor’s shoulder. “I’m so happy that you’re with me now,” she said to him quietly.

“I’m so happy, too.”

He and Jane snuggled close together. They seemed so content, Coulson thought, snuggled together by the fire. 

He turned around to look at the fireplace, remembering someone else he had met about the time he had met Thor. Christmas was a time to be spending with loved ones. He had hoped that this Christmas he would get to be with someone particularly close to his heart, but now he would never see that person ever again, not this Christmas or ever.

“You seem troubled, Son of Coul,” said Thor. “What worries you? Isn’t this your Midgardian holiday of rejoicing?”

“It is indeed,” said Coulson, turning away from the fire. “I only wish my friend Emily had returned from Asgard to spend it with me, is all.”

“Who?” asked Jane.

“The Jedi who worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Thor explained to her. “I understand your pain, my friend,” he said to Coulson.

“Yes, I know,” said Coulson. “Have none of your Asgardian friends been here to tell you if they found her?”

“They haven’t,” said Thor. “Odin has ordered them not to visit me, for some reason.”

“Really?” said Coulson.

“I am sure they would come anyway if they did have something urgent to report.”

“Is your father still displeased with your coming to stay here, then?” said Jane.

“I am afraid so,” he nodded.

Coulson paced in front of the fire. “What could possibly have happened on Asgard that would have prevented Emily from returning to Earth? I really do believe what your friends told me, that they were unable to save her. But do you know more about what might have happened?”

“It is hard to say,” said Thor. “Sif told me that they found Darcy in the Forbidden Tower. The tower was known to have unstable positionin in space and time. She may very well have met with an accident there. It is forbidden primarily for reasons of safety, I assure you, but whoever was keeping Darcy there felt it was worth the risk to have a place to hide her.”

“But if she managed to get Darcy out of there, then there was no reason she couldn’t have come back herself,” Coulson mused. “How is Darcy doing?”

Jane sighed. “She’s still the same old Darcy. But she did break up with Ian right before Thanksgiving, but she wouldn’t say why. I guess the memory spell that Sif put on her is still working.”

“Good,” Coulson nodded. “Where is she now?”

“She’s with her family for the holidays, in Virginia.”

“And where were you planning on spending Yultide, son of Coul?” asked Thor.

“I was going to be with Agent Bridger’s family, actually. If you remember Agent Barton from New York, he is their nephew and Emily's adopted cousin, so he will be joining us. They’d already fallen on hard times when she left us. Her uncle had a riding accident on a horse. They sold their ranch that they’ve had in the family for years and just been struggling financially ever since.”

“So now add to that the loss of their adopted daughter,” said Jane. “That’s just got to make everything harder.”

“And I was Emily’s personal trainer at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” said Coulson. “I hope that by being there I can help them, a little.”

The three of them stared into the fire.

 

The Friday before Christmas, Hillary was at work when Agent Parsons called her, Agent Kearns, and Agent Swill over to his office.

“What’s up?” asked Swill as they entered the room.

“Headquarters just released us some info about the mall shooting in Minneapolis,” said Parsons, standing up and placing a stack of printed photos on his desk. “The perpetrators have not confessed, but there is enough evidence to prove that they were working for Hydra.” He handed the photos to his colleagues. “What do you see?” The photos appeared to be stills taken from security cameras.

“”I met that guy right after the Triskelion incident,” said Kearns, pointing to one of the shooters. “He was a sleeper.”

“Not really sure what else we’re looking for,” said Swill, scrutinizing the page. 

Hillary felt her stomach knot. Bucky was in the picture she was holding, seen fighting some of the Hydra attackers. She wanted to deny it, but then Parsons said,

“We believe that this guy right here is the Winter Soldier.” He tapped his finger on the printout.

“All right,” said Swill. “He’s in mine, too. Dang, the guy can fight. Well, hey, Captain Rogers has been looking for him for months, I think this’ll give him a lead.”

“Agent Coulson has already emailed him,” said Parsons. 

Swill sniffed. 

“Why is he looking for the Winter Soldier?” asked Kearns.

“Dunno. I think he thinks he’ll lead him back to Hydra,” said Parsons. 

Hillary gave a quiet humph as she traded photos with Swill. In Swill’s photo was a picture of a girl with her hair in a braid. She was standing in the background fighting with another Hydra attacker.

Hillary took a closer look. “Hey, who is this, do you know?” she said, pointing it out to Parsons.

“Was that supposed to be someone important?” asked Parsons, confused.

“I think I know her,” said Hillary. “It’s Sara Martin. We went to S.H.I.E.L.D. school together. So of course she’d have the training to take on the guy.” Now she was starting to think maybe it wasn’t wise to be thinking out loud.

“Where is she now?” asked Kearns, also looking at the photo.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. laid her off back in July. She went home to Minnesota. I think she’s living in Minneapolis right now, actually.” Hillary looked at the photo again. “What are the odds….?”

“If you ask me, she was in the right place at the right time,” said Swill.

“And look here,” said Parsons, handing them another photo. “This was taken in the food court just a few minutes before the attack.” The photo showed the girl carrying a tray of food, but walking right behind her was…”

“Oh my gosh,” said Hillary.

“Would she have known he was there?” Parsons asked her.

“She was in Washington when the Triskelion happened,” said Hillary. “She heard a lot about him. I think she would have known about him.”

“That is interesting,” said Kearns.

“Do you think she might know something?” asked Parsons.

“I think it might be a long shot,” said Hillary, folding her arms, “but it might be worth asking her.”

“Good. I want you to get a hold of her over the break. Don’t make it sound too confrontational. Just friendly.”

“Got it,” said Hillary.

That night when she got on Facebook at home she saw that Sara Martin was on chat.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Hey, Sara! It's been a while. How are you?

Sara Martin: Hi, Hillary! I'm doing great. How about yourself?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: So good. How is the new job going?

Sara Martin: It's awesome! I get to help so many people :)

Hillary Morgan Tanner: That's great. Are you getting any time off for Christmas? 

Sara Martin: Yeah, I'll be going home here in a few days. It'll be so nice to be with my family, especially since last year I had to work :P 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Yeah, I did, too. That totally sucked. 

Sara Martin: But you'll be getting time off this year, won't you?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Yes, I am super excited.

Sara Martin: And when do you have to go back? 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: January 1st. And the best part is, I'm going to be starting a new position. You remember Agent Coulson?

Sara Martin: Totes

Hillary Morgan Tanner: He's asked me to be his new personal assistant. I get to start in January.

Sara Martin: YAAAAAAY! That's so awesome. I'm so happy for you :) 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Thanks. :) So I was wondering, while we're on the subject of SHIELD, today at work we got a full report about the mall shooting incident in Minneapolis. Did you hear about it, by any chance? 

Sara Martin: I was there, actually.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: What happened? Do you mind talking to me about it?

Sara Martin: Actually, I do mind. 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: How come?

Sara Martin: That answer is none of SHIELD's business or your concern. 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: oh....kaaaaaay So when are you taking the GRE?

Sara Martin: Second week of January. Hey, I'd better go. I'll talk to you later. 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: OK, I'm sorry if the question about the mall was a little sensitive

Sara Martin: That's okay. Congrats on the new job!

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Thank you :) Good luck with the GRE!

Sara Martin: Thanks. Gonna need it. Good night!

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Good night!

Hillary didn’t feel like pressing the matter. Besides, if Sara wanted to hide something, Hillary sure as heck knew how it felt.

Hillary remembered very well that it began with a text message from one of her coworkers, but in her dream it seemed like the phone was screaming at her to pick up.

Parsons: We need you to come in  
Hillary: What's happening?  
Parsons: It looks like someone broke into the office.  
Hillary: I'll be right over.  
Parsons: No, I'm sending Kearns to pick you up. Can you meet him at your dad's garage?  
Hillary: Yes, sir.

Hillary told her parents she had a work emergency and drove to the garage. As she parked, she wondered if anyone could possibly be looking out of the windows of the empty building. 

Agent Kearns arrived after a few minutes, and she climbed into the passenger’s seat of his green Taurus. 

“So what’s the situation?” she asked him right away.

“I don’t know much,” said Kearns. “Nobody was in there at the time, thank goodness. Parsons saw it on the security camera remotely.”

“Just one person?”

“We think.”

They parked a block away from their office building, and walked another block away to meet Agent Parsons and Agent Marcie Johnson by a park bench. The sweltering heat of the summer day was just beginning to lessen as the sun began to slip behind the mountains. 

“So what’s happening?” Kearns asked before Hillary could open her mouth.

“We don’t know,” said Parsons. “He seems to be trying to break into the computers. We’re pretty sure it’s a guy, and he’s working alone, unless someone is communicating with him remotely. Our sensors haven’t picked up any outside communication, though.”

“How is he breaking into the computers?” asked Hillary.

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but he may be using an encrypted flash drive,” Parsons answered. 

“He broke in through the window,” Marcie said. “Climbed up the rain gutter and got in through Parsons’ office.”

Kearns cursed the burglar quietly.

“He’s been in there at least a half an hour already,” said Parsons. “We’ll split up. Me and Marcie will go through the window, while you and Kearns take the main entrance. Put your ear radios on.” Parsons handed a set of keys to Kearns. “And don’t you dare lose these.”

Kearns and Hillary entered the building through the main entrance but went up the emergency stairs rather than taking the elevator. They entered the S.H.I.E.L.D. office suite through the front doors, Kearns using the keys to unlock the doors. All was deathly quiet when they entered the suite, and the lights were off. But a faint brush of air past her cheeks and an unusual brightness towards the rear of the main room led her to notice that the back office was open. 

They stepped lightly, being thankful for the carpet that muffled the noise of their feet. After reaching the back wall of the cubicles, they stopped to listen. All remained still for a moment. Then they detected a faint noise, like someone was typing very, very quietly. Then Hillary heard the click of a mouse.

Kearns pointed to the wall on their right, indicating that he wanted Hillary to go that way and try to confront the burglar from behind. Hillary pulled her pistol from under her jacket and keeping it as close to her body as she could she stepped away from the cubicle wall, removing her shoes as she went, and began to walk around the cubicles.

The burglar was just behind the first row of desks, sitting at Agent Levan’s computer. He had combed-over brown hair and wore a khaki suit. He had not heard her coming from behind, and so absorbed was he in clicking and scrolling on the computer screen that he did not see Kearns coming from the front.

“Freeze!” shouted Kearns, pointing his gun at the man.

The man stood up and pushed Kearns’ weapon out of the way and then tried to kick him. Kearns dodged sideways and punched, but the man grabbed Kearns’ arm and flipped him onto the floor. The burglar then took Kearns’ gun and pointed it at Hillary, but before he could fire there came two gunshots from the side as Marcie and Parsons entered the room. Parsons lowered his gun and began to attack with blows. The man managed to duck out of his reach and fired two bullets that landed in the wall from behind the cubicle wall. One of the rear windows got hit by a bullet from Marcie. Parsons accidentally shot one of the potted plants in the corner. 

Hillary and Kearns ran to attack him from the side. Kearns got a bullet to the chest as Hillary ducked to one side. The man then opened the door to one of the offices in the rear. He fired several bullets at the window, the noise of shattering glass deafening. Marcie bulldozed herself into him. They wrestled as he tried to slip away from her to jump out the window, and then as Hillary ran to help her she saw the burglar and Marcie both sitting on the window sill playing tug-of-war with his gun, and then she screamed as she lost balance and fell to the ground.

The burglar nearly toppled after her, but Hillary lunged and pulled him to the floor of the office. Parsons came in and hit the man over the head, and they had no trouble cuffing his hands behind his back and then digging through his pockets. They found several flash drives, and later when inspected each was found to be loaded with sensitive information hacked from the office computers.

As soon as the man was searched, however, Hillary jumped to her feet and leaned out the window. “Marcie! Agent Johnson! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Marcie called back, but her voice sounded weak. A second later she passed out.

Hillary couldn’t help thinking of that incident every time she walked past the office building where she worked. Marcie’s fall had originally left a stain of blood on the sidewalk that the summer rains had washed away, but Hillary wondered if it was still there, if she looked closely enough.

She woke up from that strange mix of dream and memory after sleeping in on Monday morning, three days before Christmas. The S.H.I.E.L.D. office was closed for the week, and Hillary spent the day with her mother doing last-minute Christmas gift shopping and stocking up on groceries for the foods they wanted to make. Hillary wasn’t sure if it seemed like yesterday the had done the same thing for Thanksgiving or if that was an eternity ago. 

Mike and Susan’s family came to visit them on Monday also and say goodbye before heading to California to Susan’s relatives for Christmas.

 

On Tuesday night, Trey Tanner held his annual Tanner Automotive Company Christmas Party. It was at TJ’s home off Power Road. The friends and families of the employees were invited. Benny, Pablo, and Bucky didn’t have much family to speak of, but Hillary and Jo came and mingled with TJ’s and Adam’s family. There was a white elephant gift exchange for the adults. Hillary contributed a piggy bank and a knockoff brand of men’s cologne, which ended up with TJ and Benny respectively. Bucky got a weird noisemaker that Jo had found at the dollar store, and he ended up leaving it with Adam’s daughter Chase. TJ’s wife made an excellent pumpkin pie, and the main beverage was sparkling punch. The Tanners brought home Bucky with them. The garage would close early on Christmas Eve and be closed on Christmas Day.

“So this is going to be your first Christmas since leaving Hydra,” Hillary said to him as they drove away from the party, sitting with him in the back of the family's suburban. “That’s gotta be pretty exciting.”

“Should it be?” said Bucky.

“Well, why not?” Hillary asked him.

“Well, I have gathered that it’s a religious holiday, said Bucky, “but why all the fuss? Why is it everyone thinks Christmas is so special? You have to have decorations and music and special parties for everyone? Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” said Hillary. “I mean, I know what Christmas is really about, but I don’t know why we put so much emphasis on it.” A thought occurred to her. “I think, maybe it’s because Christmas is about so much of what is in your heart, that you want to show it by making everything look nice and decorative and wonderful. Christmas gifts are supposed to be special, so we wrap them differently than we would a present given at any other time of the year. We decorate with winter things like model snowy villages and snowflakes and pine trees because it’s the kind of thing you get to see at Christmas, because we’re doing things now that we don’t get to at any other time of the year. It’s kind of hard to explain, really.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Bucky. “I guess Hydra has messed with my mind so much that it’s hard for me to understand.”

She reached over to touch his arm. She stroked it gently. “But you’re doing so much better, though. Your past self loved Christmas, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then why don’t I understand it now?”

“It’s not just you,” said Hillary. “It’s..forces that were beyond your control. You have to accept that.”

“I wish I could.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment.

“Well,” said Hillary, “I understand why you don’t want to go back to your friend Steve just yet, and I’m not really sure you would have any family left that could take you in, but I think it’s nice that you’re spending Christmas with us.”

“You really think so?” said Bucky.

“Uh-huh.”

“You think it’s an honor to be hosting a former deranged assassin for one of the biggest holidays of the year?”

“It’s better than that, really. You’re just fun to have around. We can play games and stuff together. You’ll like that, right?” Bucky nodded. “You’ll like what we’re having for Christmas Dinner: a huge ham glazed with honey. You like ham? Of course you do? And all the usual pies, and Mom will be making a fruitcake. And you probably wouldn’t mind hanging out with my family again, now would you? Julia and Greg really like you, and the rest of my family is fond of you.”

“Well, not your grandmother.”

“Hm, right, well, she doesn’t know you the way we do. But she won’t be there.”

“Hmph. Well, I guess I’m looking forward to it.”

“And when my family comes over for Christmas, we always do a little talent show.”

“What’s a talent show?”

“It’s when you show off something you’re good at to entertain other people.”

“Oh, really? Well, I’m not particularly good at anything entertaining.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Well, you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to.”

“Yes, but if you insist on treating me like family, then I suppose I should be as good at something as the rest of you.”

“But what would you do?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

“Maybe you could remember something from your past that you were good at.”

Bucky laughed. “Oh, sure, retrieve something from my almost inaccessible memories, just to have something I can show off! And when is Christmas again?”

“Two days from now.”

“Ah, that’s the catch, isn’t it? Well, we’ll see if I can think of something. But I probably won’t come up with anything in time.”

“I’ll bet you you can.”

Bucky had a question. “Jo?”

“Yes?” Jo answered him from the front seat.

“Just who is this Santa Claus that everyone keeps talking about?”

Hillary laughed.

“Santa Claus?”

“Yeah. The guy with the red suit and the reindeer I keep seeing everywhere.”

“Oh, he’s a legendary figure who goes around the world on Christmas Eve night and gives presents to everyone. It’s a folk custom we have for explaining to our children where their gifts come from.”

“Really?” said Bucky. “If you ask me, it seems the adults are just as sold on it as the kids are.”

Trey laughed. “Well, he’s just something fun we like to talk about at Christmas time.”

“Well, he’s not real, is he?”

“It depends on your definition of real,” said Hillary. “I mean, to a little kid, he might be flesh and blood real, but to a grown up, well, he’s more of a metaphor, I guess you could say.”

“Oh, I think he’s real,” said Jo Tanner.

“In what sense?” asked Hillary.

“In the sense of what he embodies,” said Jo, smiling. “I think Santa Claus represents the spirit of giving.”

Trey sniffed. “I think he represents the spirit of greed and entitlement.”

“Now, Trey, really!” said Jo.

“I’m just teasing, I’m just teasing.”

“You don’t need to corrupt our friend here with your ideas,” Jo said to him.

“Well, he could probably use some exposure to different ways of thinking, based on what I’ve heard he’s been through.”

There was a silence in the car for a moment. Then Bucky spoke up again.

“So what does Santa Claus do?” he asked, leaning behind Jo’s chair.

“Santa Claus makes gifts for all of the boys and girls in the world, and then he delivers them on Christmas Eve,” Jo explained simply.

“And how does he do that?”

“Most people think he has a magic sleigh that’s pulled by flying reindeer,” said Jo. “He flies on his sleigh to every house to deliver presents.”

“And then how does he deliver them? Does he just walk in the door of the house?”

“No, not remotely--well, I guess in special cases he can do what he wants,” said Jo. “But most of the time, when the doors are locked and everyone in the house is asleep, he slides down the chimney with his sack full of toys and he enters the house through the fireplace.”

“Really?” said Bucky.

“Thats how the stories go,” said Jo.

“So let me get this straight, tomorrow night, a random guy with a pack of toys is going to break into your house, leave you a bunch of presents, and come and go by a flying sled that he’ll park on your roof? Did I get that straight?”

“Bucky, he’s just a metaphor,” said Hillary, she said. “Calm down.”

“But, that’s just wrong, how do you know he won’t steal anything or break anything while he’s in there?”

“He doesn’t,” said Jo. “Santa Claus, in most of the legends, is a kindly old man who only wants to bring good cheer to everyone. He doesn’t go around hurting people, or their property.”

“Unless they’re on his naughty list,” said Hillary. “Then they’ll just get lumps of coal.”

“What?” said Bucky.

“Oh, er, uh, that’s not relevant to the conversation, I think. But anyway, Santa’s intentions are good, and he doesn’t mean harm to anybody that doesn’t deserve it.”

“But what about me?” said Bucky. “Santa Claus goes around bringing presents for everybody, and I’m nobody. What about the people who are lost, or can’t remember who they are, or if they don’t have a place to go for Christmas?”

“Bucky, to Santa Claus, everybody is somebody,” said Trey. “I’m being metaphorical here. He does what he can for people who don’t have much, and sometimes it’s a good idea for those who have more to look after those who don’t at Christmas, just to help him out. And you know what, I’m sure Santa Claus will have missed you in all the time you’ve been gone. He’ll be perfectly fine with the fact that you’re staying with us.”

“Well, he doesn’t need to bring me anything,” said Bucky grumpily.

Hillary wanted to encourage him to cheer up, but she didn’t think it would do him much good.

When they got home, Jo went to her room and Trey and Bucky sat in the kitchen to talk about cars, and Hillary got onto the computer to check her Facebook.

Steve Rogers:  
It's been eight and a half months since I last saw Bucky. I really thought I would have found him by now, and I haven't. I just came back from Colorado where he was last seen at a homeless shelter, but apparently he didn't stay there for very long. He's been moving around a lot, and from the sound of it he's avoiding people. I know he probably doesn't feel very safe or comfortable around others yet, but it's just that he needs a lot of help, and he's not going to get it if he keeps trying to avoid it. It would be nice if I got another lead here in the next day or so, but that probably isn't going to happen. I'll be spending Christmas with my friend Sam Wilson's family, but I'm sure going to wish Bucky was here. :(

Sara Martin: I know you're really disappointed, but I think it's time for you to accept that he's not ready to come back yet. 

Steve Rogers: That's what everybody keeps telling me. But thanks. 

Pepper Potts: I know the feeling. You're a man of action and you don't like to wait around. Just don't give up yet!

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Did you hear about the mall shooting in Minneapolis?

Steve Rogers: Yes, I did. I've called them already to ask about it but they told me to wait until after Christmas. :(

Hillary scrolled down to read several other posts, but she couldn’t get Steve’s frustrations off of her mind.

She groaned as she clicked the window shut.

“What’s the matter dear?” Trey asked her.

“Him,” she said, almost spitting. She turned around to glare at Bucky.

“Who, me?” said Bucky. “What did I do?”

“You TURDBAG!” she said, almost yelling across the room at him. “I freaking hate you right now! Do you know how much trouble you’ve put him through? And now he’s wishing he could have you home for Christmas, and we’re the ones who are stuck with you! Brilliant, Bucky!”

“Who did I put through a lot of trouble?”

“Who haven’t you put through a lot of trouble?” Trey smirked.

“Captain America, of course! Who else did you think I was talking about?” Hillary tore at her hair. “Of all the nerve...can’t you see that you’re breaking his heart, the longer you keep running away from him?”

“Now, look,” said Bucky, standing up. “It’s none of my business what kind of trouble he’s putting himself through for me.”

“Does it give you any satisfaction, then?” said Hillary, pushing close to the verge of tears, “Watching him suffer from a distance while you hide out here?”

“Hillary, now that’s enough,” said Trey. “I think you need to calm down and consider Bucky’s point of view for the moment. I’m sorry about my daughter, Bucky. She gets passionate about things sometimes.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Bucky, sitting down but eyeing her.

Trey looked at his daughter. “Hillary, if you need to, you can go to your room for a moment.”

Hillary went to the bathroom instead. She brushed her teeth and spat out the toothpaste with as much anger as she could muster. She finished getting ready for bed and put on her pajamas, and when she was done, she was feeling considerably less hostile toward Bucky.

Bucky was still seated at the kitchen table, twiddling his thumbs. But Trey had gone to bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, when he looked up at her.

“It’s okay,” said Bucky. But he didn’t say anything else to excuse himself.

She sat down at the piano. She wanted to play something. But she couldn’t think of anything just yet. 

Then she did. She pulled open the Christmas songbook to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” She was very much aware of her audience.

Out of the corner of her eye as she played, she saw him move closer to her, sitting on the couch nearby to listen.

She finished playing and sighed heavily.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked her.

“No, I’m not okay,” she moaned. She leaned her head onto the piano.

“Play something else. You’ll feel better.”

“Right.” She thumbed through the piano book. Then she stopped.

“What?”

“You do realize this is the most time we’re going to have together?”

“Until when?”

“The first of the year. I start a new job with S.H.I.E.L.D. in January, so I’ll be away from home a lot more.”

“So this is a bad thing?” said Bucky.

“Maybe,” said Hillary, “but this is probably the most time I’ll get to spend with my family before then, too.”

She found a Christmas song she hadn’t heard before and decided to try playing it. It had a sweet, sad melody.

“What song is this?” asked Bucky.

“It’s called ‘Somewhere In My Memory.’”

“Are there words?”

“Uh-huh.” She began to sing quietly.

Candles in the window,  
shadows painting the ceiling,  
gazing at the fire glow,  
feeling that gingerbread feeling.  
Precious moments,  
special people,  
happy faces,  
I can see.  
Somewhere in my mem'ry,  
Christmas joy's all around me,  
living in my mem'ry,  
all of the music,  
all of the magic,  
all of the fam'ly home here with me.

She finished playing and looked at Bucky. He gave her a faint smile. He seemed touched. 

He took a deep breath. “Well, I’m going to bed now. But you can keep playing if you want. Good night, Hillary.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

She played “Away in a Manger.” Then, feeling up to a challenge, she opened up the piano book again. She had heard someone sing ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ at church on Sunday and she wanted to try her hand at playing it. She thought she did pretty well, and went to bed with it stuck in her head.

 

Steve thought lamely of attempting to sing something while he stood there, but the chill air was already getting to his throat and he didn’t dare open his mouth except to greet the customers of the store as they entered and exited. Only a few people plinked their loose change into the Salvation Army bucket as they passed. A few people gave him suspicious or eager looks, but most either broke eye contact quickly or even avoided his gaze.

Even under his baseball cap, a Santa hat and a heavy coat, he felt vulnerable with his face so exposed. And his nose felt ready to fall off at any second. The air he breathed misted around it and nipped it like a breeze rather than warming it.

He felt tempted to take out his phone and check the time again, but he knew he’d rather keep going as long as he could and wait for either Sam or one of his friends to come find him at the end of the shift. 

He saw a couple dressed in ragged clothes enter the store, keeping a good distance away from him and the ringing bell. He wondered if Bucky was in the neighborhood that night, if by some chance he had wandered back to New York and if they would somehow cross paths. 

It was the best he could hope for. The Christmas miracle he so desperately wanted evaded him as it always did.

“Hey, mister,” a young voice interrupted his musings. He looked down and saw a grubby, overweight child in a floppy hat looking up at him.

“What?”

“Are you Captain America?”

Steve smiled, trying hard not to laugh. “And what makes you say that?”

“You look like him,” said the boy. “He’s big and tall, like you are.”

“Well, that may be the case. Do you have any change you’d like to put in the bucket?”

“I already did put my change in there. But you weren’t looking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Steve. “Well, thank you. Have a merry Christmas.”

“I’m Jewish, you moron.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, then. Happy Hanukkah.”

The boy sniffed. “Whatever.” He walked away mumbling something about a disappointment.

Not a minute later, a little boy with overgrown hair came up to him, and Steve braced himself for another mortal embarrassment.

“Hey, Mister,” said the boy, “My mom says if you’ll keep an eye on me I can play my harmonica for you while she does her shopping.”

The boy’s mother was right behind him. “I’ve done these penny drives before, sir,” she said. “People give you more money if you’re playing music.”

“Oh, all right, then, but how good of a player are you, young man?” said Steve to the boy.

“Oh, I’ve practiced a lot, mister, so I can be really good.” The boy whipped out his harmonica and started playing ‘Joy to the World.’ Steve gave a nod to his mother, and she went inside. The boy stood next to Steve. True to the woman’s word, people began dropping off more of their change into the till. The boy played “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Jingle Bells,” “Oh Come All Ye Faithful,” and “Silent Night.” 

“A pretty impressive repertoire,” said Steve.

“A pretty impressive what?” asked the boy?

“It means you know how to play a lot of songs.”

“Oh, okay.” 

A man with a hat pulled low over his face came up and stuffed some dollar bills into the tin. 

“Um, God bless you, sir,” said Steve.

“Dangit, Steve, I’m an atheist, remember?” The man pulled his hat back.

“Oh, so sorry. Didn’t recognize you there, Tony. How are you?”

“I’m good, just came out here to see how you were doing.”

“How did you find me?” 

“Your cell phone,” said Tony. 

“Kind of impolite, stalking people who don’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, well I figured it might do you some good to see someone you knew,” said Tony, smiling. “You still coming by the tower Christmas night?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

‘Great, I’ll see you then.” He patted Steve on the shoulder. He then tipped his hat to the boy. “You have a good one.”

“Um, bye, I guess,” said the boy. 

Tony walked away. The boy looked up at Steve.

“Yes, that was Iron Man,” said Steve quietly.

The boy shrugged and played “O, Christmas Tree.”

 

It was Christmas Eve. Jo Tanner kept saying that afternoon that there was a special spirit of Christmas in the house because they had opened their home to their friend.

“That’s a nice sentiment, Mom,” said Hillary as her mother went back to washing the dishes and humming. The dough for the Christmas cinnamon rolls was already rising on the counter. Hillary was mixing dough for pie crust. She enjoyed cooking and baking when she came home. It helped her to feel domestic and feminine after spending all her time at a super-professional job.

By the time the apple pie she was working on was ready for the oven, it was four o’clock, and shortly after the clock had struck the hour she was finishing the latticed crust as her father and Bucky came in the back door.

“Hello dear,” said Trey, leaning over the counter where Jo was making a cheese ball. He kissed her.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” said Jo.

“Merry Christmas to you.”

“Hey, Bucky, how’s it going?” said HIllary.

“Going great,” said Bucky. “What’s that you’re making?”

“A latticed pie crust. It’s an apple -- don’t pinch the pie crust!” she said, swatting his gloved hand as it went to the leftover dough. “I might need that later.”

“Ow,” said Bucky, rubbing his hand.

Hillary rubbed hers. “Yowch. What did they build your arm with? A brick? I didn’t realize you could feel anything with that.”

“Is that pie dough good?” Trey asked.

“I don’t know,” said Bucky. “She didn’t let me have any.”

Trey pinched some pie crust. 

“Dad!”

“Honey, your cholesterol!” said Jo.

“Hey, it’s all going in my belly tomorrow anyway,” said Trey.

While Hillary was distracted, Bucky picked up his discarded piece of pie crust and popped it in his mouth.

“So what still needs to be done around here?” Trey asked.

“Well, if you want to clean up the house a little, I’d sure appreciated if you could dust and vacuum.”

“All right, I can do that,” said Trey.

“Anything I can help with, Jo?” asked Bucky.

“You could help him out if you wanted to,” said Jo.

“I can handle it, Jo. Bucky worked really hard today. He waited on me hand and foot.”

“Does it seem a little quiet in here?” said Bucky, looking around. “Don’t you guys have a stereo?”

“We certainly do,” said Jo. 

“Here, let me show you,” said Trey, taking him over to the stereo in the kitchen. They turned on the radio to a local pop station which, of course, was playing Christmas music. At the moment, it was Gene Autry’s “Here Comes Santa Claus.” Jo swayed a little to the music. Trey went down the hall to get some cleaning supplies. Bucky plopped down on the couch and gave a gratified sigh. 

Hillary put the pie in the oven and washed her hands, and then she cleaned off her work space.

“Do you want to get started on the pumpkin pie?” Jo asked her.

“No, not yet,” she said, rolling the leftover pie crust in saran wrap. She sat down on another couch to rest her back. Baking was fun, but it was exhausting. 

Andy Williams’ “Happy Holidays” came on. In spite of her weariness, Hillary found herself tapping her foot in time to the music. 

Bucky was shaking his head in time. They looked at each other from across the room. Then he stood up and extended a hand to her. 

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

“What?”

“What, you don’t dance?”

“Well, maybe not the kind you’re used to doing.” She took his hand. They started sort-of swing dancing, and then they got the hang of it.

Jo watched them from the kitchen, and she laughed. “Whoo-hoo! Bucky! You’re a natural!”

He spun Hillary and dipped her. She screamed and laughed. She was amazed at the way his face was lit up with pleasure.

“Where did you learn how to dance like this?”

“Denver,” he said, spinning her out. “But of course, I’ve done this before, so it came back naturally.” 

“Really? Well, you probably don’t get to dance that often,” Hillary mused, “but you don’t really have to be dancing like this.”

“But that’s what I do,” said Bucky, giving her a mischievous smile. He then leaned close to her ear and said, “My name is Bucky Barnes, and I dance with all the girls!”

Hilllary drew back from him. “Oooooooh! You rascal!”

He laughed at her. 

“Oh, I’m gonna--oooh!” Hillary ran to the kitchen and grabbed the broom from behind the fridge. He was still laughing at her when she came running back, and he still laughed as she chased him around the living room and swatted him with the broom. She missed him and hit the Christmas tree, and some of the glass ornaments on the upper branches rattled dangerously.

“You told me you didn’t remember anything!”

“Well, clearly I remember enough,” he said.

“Enough to what?”

“Enough to make you mad at me.” He laughed at her again.

She stormed back to the kitchen to replace the broom. “I can’t stand you!”

Bucky sank back to the couch and laughed.

“Well, dear, if you’re not going to hit him with that,” said Jo, “why don’t you sweep the floor?”

After sitting down for a moment, Bucky got up to take a closer look at Jo’s Christmas village. Then he turned around and watched Hillary sweep for a moment.

“What?” she asked him.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I just wish I could dance with Grace again, is all.”

“Why don’t you just go back to her?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Words were futile, and he shrugged.

“What’s the matter?”

“You’d laugh at me.”

“I would do no such thing.”

“Well, does S.H.I.E.L.D. know what Hydra did to me?”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Well, just...never mind,” he said, looking away from her.

Hillary swept the kitchen floor and her father vacuumed the living room. Jo Tanner made their traditional Christmas Eve dinner, taquitos and little smokies and homemade pizza. Bucky hid out of sight of the door when a neighbor knocked on the front door of the house to deliver a plate of Christmas treats: candied pretzels and cake balls and fudge. 

Greg and Julia came over to join them for an evening of fun. They played “The Great Dalmuti,” and Bucky was able to participate with a little guidance from Hillary.

“You guys really know how to have fun on Christmas,” Greg commented as he shuffled the cards at the end of one round. “This, and the family program you have on Christmas Day. My family never does stuff like that. We just sit around and talk.”

“No you don’t,” said Julia. “Don’t you guys go out and do winter sports and playing in the snow?”

“That’s only if we’re up at the cabin,” said Greg. “And even then, there isn’t always that much snow up there.”

“Well, there wasn’t that much last year,” said Julia. “But I heard this year is supposed to be better.”

“Are you two going to be up at the cabin any time this holiday?” asked Jo.

“Actually, we were thinking of going there for New Year’s,” said Greg. “Seeing as my work isn’t having a party this year.”

“Is your family’s cabin close to my brother Kenny’s?” asked Trey.

“I believe so,” said Greg. “I mean, my mother mentioned having met Kenny at least once. Your family’s cabin is on Aspen Road, right?”

“Yes, and yours is on Copper?”

“Yeah, Copper is just half a mile down Aspen.”

“But it’s the other way across the highway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Greg nodded.

Julia got up to get some desserts. “How many years ago was it, that we spent Christmas at uncle Kenny’s?” Julia asked. “Wasn’t it ten years ago?”

“Yes, it was,” said Jo, nodding as she sipped her hot cider. 

“Aw, that was a great Christmas,” said Julia. “Do you remember, Hillary?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Hillary. “That was the first time I’d ever seen so much snow in one place. It was amazing. I loved playing in it. And the icicles, and sledding down the hills with our cousins, remember that?”

“Yes,” said Julia. “And that was the year you got your stuffed tiger for Christmas.”

“Yes, and we all got all of the Harry Potters up to that point in hardcover that year, I remember,” said Hillary.

“That was that year?” asked Jo. “I thought it was the year before.”

“I remember that year,” said Trey. “Uncle Kenny still had his snowmobile back then, right?”

“That’s right,” said Jo. 

“Oh, the snowmobile!” said Hillary. “He let us out for rides on that, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Julia, “and he even let me drive it--though I didn’t really get the hang of it.”

Trey laughed. “You refused to let me show you how, and then you stormed back into the house after it had stalled on you for the tenth time. It was running just fine.”

“It just didn’t work for me,” said Julia, munching a cookie.

“My family lived in Colorado for a few years growing up,” said Greg. “Winters there were the best. My brothers and I would go sledding at a park down the street from our house, and we’d go up and down the hill at least ten times before we got worn out.” He glanced over at Bucky and saw him looking at him strangely. But then when he looked back, Bucky stared away.

“Kind of makes you question why your dad moved down here, doesn’t it?” asked Trey.

“I know, but the Rim’s got places that are just as snowy in the winter. We got our cabin for a reason. But I remember, that first Christmas I lived in Colorado, or maybe it was the second one, Mom and Dad got us our giant sled. We couldn’t believe our eyes on Christmas morning. There it was, unwrapped but tied with a gigantic ribbon. We almost forgot about all of our other presents--which, really, there wasn’t much. They spent most of their money on the sled that year.”

“I got my own sled for Christmas one year when I was a kid in Utah,” said Trey. “It was a nice, shiny red one. All of the other kids in the neighborhood were jealous--until about mid-January when I crashed it. I begged my parents for a new one, but they wouldn’t hear of it. But the next year, my dad showed me how to build my own sled. I think that was how I discovered I liked to build and fix things.”

“I’ve heard that story at least fifty times, dear,” said Jo, patting his hand.

“I know,” said Trey, squeezing hers.

“I haven’t heard it before,” said Greg.

Jo laughed. Then she looked at Bucky. “Bucky, do you have any Christmas memories?”

“Um, I don’t.”

“Mom, do you really think it’s such a good idea to bring that up?” said Hillary.

“Well, I meant no offense,” said Jo. “I just wanted him to be included.”

“That’s fine,” said Bucky.

“Well, Mom, if he could, do you really think Greg and Julia need to hear--”

“Of course not,” said Jo, “I’m sorry. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Is there a problem?” said Julia.

“No, just ...some of Bucky’s more sensitive issues.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky shook his head. “No harm done.”

Hillary turned to him. “But, you don’t have to say anything, but do you remember anything in your past? About Christmas?”

“Do I?” he asked her. 

“You said you were starting to remember a few things,” she said, eyeing Greg and Julia. Her sister and her brother-in-law were trying not to look awkward.

“Well...I can’t say any of the stuff I do remember has anything to do with Christmas. It’s almost like I’ve never had one.”

“That’s okay,” Hillary said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll remember them sometime. Maybe you’ll remember them tonight.”

“Hillary, do you think maybe you could ask his friend Capt--”

“Mom, no,” Hillary cut her off. “I don’t think we need to bring him into this.”

“Oh. All right.”

“Well, perhaps you can make some new memories today and tomorrow, Bucky,” said Trey.

“I could,” said Bucky, nodding a little. 

The evening wound up with Julia, Jo, and Hillary taking turns on the piano. Julia, Hillary, and Jo rolled out the dough for the cinnamon rolls, spread out the filling and cut it up. Jo gave her daughter and son-in-law a tray of them to take home and bake, and the rest she put in the fridge until morning. Julia and Greg went home. Trey went to bed not long after that.

Jo, in the meantime, prepared a plate of cookies and a glass of milk and set them on the counter.

“What’s that for?” Bucky asked her.

“It’s for Santa Claus,” she said. 

“I thought you said Santa wasn’t real.”

“Oh, he’s real enough,” said Jo, winking at him. But Bucky didn’t understand what the wink meant.

“So what’re you gonna do?” Hillary asked as she sat down at the piano again. “Gonna stick around and wait up for Santa Claus?”

“Hm, nah,” said Bucky. “I think I’ll get ready for bed.”

“Suit yourself.” She started playing, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” When she was finished with that, she noticed Bucky was standing by the nativity set that was on the credenza near the front door. He picked up the figurine of Baby Jesus and studied it. She wasn’t sure she could read the expression on his face, whether he knew the significance or not. But, she asked herself, would Hydra have wanted him to remember the reason for the season?

This thought was her inspiration. Slowly she began playing “What Child is This?” First the top line, then both hands together when she reached the chorus.

When she was done Bucky was watching her. “That was beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas.” 

“You too.”

He got himself ready for bed without much trouble, and as he fell asleep Hillary was playing “Wexford Carol” on the piano.

 

The next thing he knew, there was something in the room that bathed the entire space in a soft, golden light. He tried to shut his eyes tighter, but the light seemed to creep under his eyelids as well.

And then there was a voice.

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“No, no, that’s not me,” he said, rolling over and covering his face with his hands. 

“Awake!” The voice that called him was deep and threatening, but at the same time soft and gentle. How it could have been both he had no idea.

He sat up in bed. Standing in the bedroom was a person, but whether a man or a woman he could not tell. It had long, white hair that hung to its shoulders and wore a loose white robe that pretty much hid its figure. Its face was both young and proud and ancient and wise. And from the top of its head sprang a light like a pillar, but looking closely, Bucky could see that the light came from a wreath that hung on its brow that had lighted candles sticking from it.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

“Christmas what?”

“Christmas Past. Your memories of the blessed season.”

Bucky decided that the being’s voice was female. He tried to look more closely at her, to see just how feminine she really was, but the more he looked at her face, the less he saw because of the light that came from the candles on top of her head.”

“I’m sorry, your light is really bothering me,” he said. “Could you put it out so I could go back to sleep?”

“Would you put out with mortal hands,” said the Ghost solemnly, “what Hydra has kept in the darkness for so long?”

“What do you want with me?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Only to show you what you need to remember.”

“But I don’t need to remember anything, do I?”

The Ghost only frowned at him.

“What do you need to show me?”

The Spirit held out her arm to him. “Take my hand.”

He did as he was told. His good hand reached for the hand of the spirit, but where he thought he would feel the flesh of another person he felt a shape like a warm sack or a pillow in weight, but like air in texture. The hand gripped his own tighter, and the warmth of the hand grew greater, and he soon only wished that he could let go of the burning surface, and the yellow glow of the spirit enveloped him and his surroundings disappeared, and then faded away. The Ghost slipped her hand from his, and the light faded. They were no longer in Cody’s bedroom, nor anywhere else in the house, or anywhere that looked like Mesa, Arizona, for that matter.

The room had wooden floors that creaked and walls that echoed. Children were running around wearing old bedsheets on their heads and around their bodies, and a girl had a gigantic pair of paper-mache wings with glued-on feathers that were falling off everywhere. The adults who tried to wrestle the children into submission wore stiff, long clothes. 

“What is this place?” he asked the spirit.

“Your past,” said the Ghost. “Do you not remember this place?”

He looked around, trying and failing to connect the scene around him with his scattered memories. 

“No. I don’t.”

“This was where your mother and father brought you to church as a boy,” said the Ghost. “I believe you are around here, somewhere.” The ghost gently prodded him around to look at a group of wrestling children tangled in costumes. “You’re the one pinning the blond boy to the ground.”

The blond-haired boy was wrestling with a burly, dark-haired one who was trying to pull a wooden staff out of the blond boy’s hands. 

“Give it back, Spencer!”

“Not on your life, Barnes!” he yelled, flipping Bucky unto the ground and kicking him. He stood up, but Bucky got back on his feet right away and punched him.

A woman with a pencil twisted in her hair entered the room. “Children! Children!! Shame on you all, fighting like this. Give me that!” she said, grabbing the staff from Spencer. 

“Bucky, stop pushing the other boys around or you don’t get to be in the play.”

Bucky folded his arms with a humph.

“Now, children, like up. Let’s see if we have all of your costumes in order.” The children lined up before their teacher, their costumes in disarray. As the teacher straightened them out, she stopped to rebuke Bucky.

“Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you, you can’t wear your scarf on the stage.”

“But I like it!” he protested as she pulled a yellow scarf off from around his neck.

“No buts!” she said. “It’s anachronistic and worse it doesn’t even match your costume.”

The teacher hung the yellow scarf on a coat rack by the door where there was already a pile of coats, scarves, and hats. This being done, she took one of the little girls by the hand and had her lead them out of the room. 

They were in a church, and at the front of the chapel were another group of children singing, being led by another woman with short hair.

“With Wondering awe the wise men saw  
The star in heaven springing,  
and with delight in peaceful night,  
They heard the angels singing,  
Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna to his name.”

They sang two more verses of the song as the children in costume were seated in the pews. 

“Very good, children, very good,” said the singing instructor, clapping. You may put you costumes on now. It is time to rehearse the play.”

The ghost leaned into his ear and whispered, “there in the front is the boy who would become Captain America.” She pointed to a boy who had been sitting in the front row, a short, sickly fellow with blond hair who coughed and sat on one of the pews while his peers dressed in their costumes.

“Now, class,” said the first lady, “let’s all behave ourselves. Listen to my instructions and we can get this over with quickly.” She did a roll call of the children, but as she did so she had to stop and call out Bucky for making faces at Steve.

“Very good, children,” said the woman as she finished the roll call. “Now do we have all of our parts? Joseph, Mary, Shepherds, Wise Men? Yes, Bucky?”

Bucky raised his hand and jumped for his teacher’s attention. “Mrs. Parker, why can’t Steve have a part?”

“Because we don’t have anymore parts to spare, Bucky,” said Mrs. Parker. “Besides, Steven is sick and he needs his rest." 

“He was sick last week, Mrs. Parker. He’s already better now. Steve needs to have a part,” he complained. 

“Rogers can sit this one out,” Spencer said.

“Shut up, Spencer,” Bucky said, glaring at him.

“Bucky, Spencer, speak kindly to each other. Well, what do you think he should be? We already have plenty of shepherds, and we certainly don’t need a fourth wise man.”

“He could be a sheep,” Bucky suggested.

“A sheep? and what do you suggest we do for his costume?”

“Easy, you could stick some cotton onto his shirt with a safety pin, and make him wear white.”

“But we don’t even have any animals!” said one of the other boys. “Why do we need a sheep?”

“Rogers’s nose is still running!” said a little girl. “He’ll get snot all over the stage.”

On his bench, Steve sniffed very loudly. “I can manage it, Mrs. Parker.” 

Mrs. Parker gave a sigh of exasperation. “Laura, do we still have that bolt of cotton in the Sunday School room?”

“I think so. I’ll go look for it,” said the other teacher, running to go get it.

“Steven, you may join your peers, if you so desire.”

Steve’s little face lit up and he ran to Bucky’s side. The other children muttered and whispered and some of them gave Steve and Bucky dirty looks.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Steve said timidly to his friend.

“Yes, but I wasn’t about to let you sit out of the Christmas play because you’re still getting over that measly old cold.” Steve sneezed, and Bucky pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket so he could blow his nose.

The other teacher returned to the room carrying a sheet of cotton padding. She called Steve forward, and he removed his jacket. Mrs. Parker and Laura pinned the sheet to his shirt, then had a whispered discussion in which Laura ran back to the classroom, this time returning with a small strip of white cloth that they tied around Steve's head. They then turned him around and returned him to his peers. The children laughed at him.

Steve gave Bucky a look. Bucky patted him on the shoulder.

“All right, then,” said Mrs. Parker. “Let’s take it from the Shepherds’ part. Places.”

A few of the children left the stage while the Steve and Bucky remained with the rest.

“Now get on the ground and act like a sheep,” said Bucky. Steve obliged and knelt on the ground.

“You will enter stage right,” said Mrs. Parker. “Let’s practice your entrance. Everybody clear off--no, Phyllis, it’s the other way!.” she called out to a little girl who had gone the other way.

“Now, when Mrs. Peterson reads her line, you will make an entrance. Shepherds--and sheep. Laura.”

Laura read from a book in her hands: “‘And there were, in the same country, shepherds, abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.’”

The boys with sticks came onto the stage, with Steve crawling right next to Bucky. 

“Now,” Bucky whispered.

Steve gave a bleat like that of a sheep. The children and teachers laughed. Bucky smirked, and Steve bleated again, acting very pleased with himself. 

“But how did that little boy ever get to be Captain America?” he asked the Ghost of Christmas Past.

“You will see,” she said. She took his hand. The golden light rose around them, and the church scene disappeared

They were inside a small, shabby apartment, decorated with a few threadbare pieces of furniture and some sorry-looking Christmas decorations. Two patched stockings hung on a wall beside the heater, and a skinny Christmas tree nearly sank under the weight of a string of popcorn and a handful of baubles. A frail-looking woman sat knitting on a rocking chair, and the same sickly boy from the previous memory sat by the heater, wrapped in a blanket. 

The quiet scene was interrupted with several loud raps at the door. The frail woman dropped her knitting with a start, and the boy crawled out of his blanket as they both went to answer the door.

There was a small family gathered on the balcony outside, a man with a toddler boy in his arms and a woman and a boy with a yellow scarf--himself, he recognized--and a girl with yellow curls. They were all dressed in warm coats and vapor came out of their mouths as they opened them to sing: 

“Ding-dong! merrily on high,  
in heav’n the bells are ringing!  
Ding-dong! verily the sky  
Is riv’n with angels singing!  
Gloooooooooooooooooria!  
Hosanna in excelsis!  
Gloooooooooooooooooria!  
Hosanna in excelsis!”

They took what he thought was a very long time on the Glorias, and Bucky thought the younger version of himself looked out of breath and even caught him sneaking a yawn.

“Merry Christmas!” the happy family exclaimed.

“And a happy new year!” added the boy.

“Oh, my good heavens!” said the frail woman, clutching her heart. “Do come in! Please, take off your coats and make yourselves at home!” She and her son backed out of the doorway to admit the Barneses.

“We won’t be long,” said Mr. Barnes. “We just came to sing you a few carols, was all.”

They closed the door behind them. Mrs. Barnes gave something to Mrs. Rogers. “Here’s a little something for you,” she said.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Mrs. Rogers, holding the package wrapped in brown paper in her hands.

“You don’t have to open it right away.”

“Of course not, Beth. But thank you so much. A merry Christmas to you, darling!” The two mothers embraced.

“I’ve got something for you, too, Steve,” said young Bucky. His package was also wrapped in brown paper. He handed it to Steve, whose eyes went wide with excitement.

“Mother, can I open it now?” Steve asked his mother.

“Go right ahead, son,” she nodded.

Steve and Bucky knelt on the floor while he opened the package. Steve gasped loudly as he pulled out a little tin car painted bright red.

“Wow, that’s so cool!” Steve exclaimed, jumping up and down for joy.

“You like it?” said Bucky.

“It’s amazing!” said Steve. “Where did you get it?”

“I told my dad you might not be getting many presents this year.”

Steve looked at Bucky with an almost mournful expression. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“Well, you don’t have to get me anything, either,” said Bucky, giving his friend a hug. “Merry Christmas, buddy.”

“And I’ve brought you some homemade fudge,” said the little girl, giving the plate to Mrs. Rogers while Steve gawked over his present.

“Well, aren’t you a little dear?” said Mrs. Rogers. “Thank you, Mary.”

The little toddler had been placed on the floor, but he made a swipe at the plate of fudge.

“Now, Johnny, that’s not for you!” said Mrs. Barnes, shooing the infant away from the plate. Johnny instead made a run for the tree and began plucking the needles off the branches of the already pathetic-looking tree.

Steve and Bucky were on the floor, trying out the wheels of the new car. Mary chased after them while the grown-ups talked.

“Okay, kids, it’s time to go,” said Mr. Barnes finally. Bucky and Mary groaned. “Come on, we can sing one more carol before we go. How about ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’? Ready?”

The family gathered up and sang:

“We wish you a merry Christmas,  
We wish you a merry Christmas,  
We wish you a merry Christmas,  
And a happy new year.  
Good tidings we bring  
to you and your kin,  
Good tidings for Christmas  
and a happy new year.”

“And bring us a figgy pudding!” Bucky shouted at the end.

“Bucky, no!” his mother rebuked him.

Their audience applauded politely. “Wonderful, wonderful!” said Mrs. Rogers. “Thank you ever so much for coming by.”

Mrs. Barnes asked her what she and Steve were doing for Christmas dinner. Steve waved good-bye to Bucky, too pleased with the generous gift for words. Bucky instead went to the window right next to the door and breathed onto it, and on the fogged glass he drew a picture of a silly face which he promptly imitated.

The Barneses made their final good-nights to Mrs. Rogers and Steve, calling Bucky along after them.

“Was I really such a little rascal?” he asked the Spirit.

“You were,” said the Spirit, nodding solemnly, “but one with a generous heart, even for one so young.”

“What about the baby boy, and the little girl?” he asked. “Did I have a brother and sister?”

“You did, in fact,” said the Spirit. “The little boy, your brother Johnny, moved with his family to Indiana after the war. Your sister, on the other hand, has many descendants that still live in Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn,” he repeated. 

The Spirit said nothing more, but walked forward as the scene dissolved. He followed her into a space that was similar to the church they had been inside of earlier, except larger: they were in an auditorium facing a stage with curtains. There was scenery of houses and a city street, and the children in the seats were passing around odd costumes, top hats for the boys and bonnets for the girls. 

“Let’s go over the part where Mr. Scrooge sees Bob Cratchit with his family,” said a teacher, a woman with her gray hair in a bun, standing behind a lectern in front of a stage. “Scrooge and the Ghost, you will enter stage right.” Two tall boys entered from the left side of the stage, one dressed in a green bathrobe and a holly crown, the other in a long white nightshirt, a cap, and a pair of slippers. “Will Bob Cratchit and his family please enter stage left.” 

On the right side of the stage was a small set of a dinner table. He saw his younger self, now older and taller, enter first, followed by two girls and two more boys in old-fashioned clothes. One of the boys was Steve Rogers, awkwardly pretending to limp on a pair of crutches. He was still shorter than most of his peers, and still frail-looking. They all seemed to be going through growth spurts except for him.

“I say, my dear Mrs. Cratchit,” said Bucky in a thick fake British accent, “I nearly thought my employer wouldn’t give me the day off today.”

“Cut!” shouted the woman directing. “Mr. Barnes, will you please drop the British accent?”

“You don’t like my fake British accent?” he said, continuing in the same tone.

“It’s terrible!” she said. ”Just talk like your normal self and don’t ruin it for everyone else.”

“But this is Victorian London, miss,” he said. “I s’pose I should talk like I’m there.”

“Mr. Barnes, this is a school pageant, not a Broadway spectacular. No one is going to care how realistic this is.”

“If you say so,” he said, dropping the accent, hiding his disappointment behind a sly smile.

“Let’s go back from the top. Everyone exit. Places.” The cast scattered off the stage. “Now, curtain. Enter Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Present from stage right. Enter the Bob Crachit family from stage left.”

The cast repeated the entrance, but Steve was having difficulty with the crutches. Bucky was about to open his mouth to say his line when one of Steve’s crutches caught on one of the table legs and he fell. While his fellow actors gathered to help him to his feet, the students watching in the audience were laughing and jeering at them. The woman directing only rubbed her face and groaned.

“Better be careful with those crutches, Tiny Tim!” someone near the front shouted. “You might have to use them for real!”

Bucky stood up. “Who said that?”

The crowd of adolescents fell silent.

“The next person who takes a jab at Rogers gets--”

“Mr. Barnes! I will not tolerate you threatening the other students,” said the director. “Now, everyone, please, back in your places, let’s try to get through rehearsal today without killing ourselves, or each other. Exit, please.”

As the actors exited once again, Bucky kept an arm over Steve’s shoulders. 

“Someday, they won’t be laughing,” Bucky said to him in a low voice. “Someday. They’ll see.”

The spirit changed the scene again. They had returned to the apartment they had been in earlier, except it seemed that several more years had passed. There were no decorations this time, not even a wreath for the door, just an air of gloom that hung in every corner.

Now the two boys were both grown men, but the younger version of himself that he saw was a completely different man from his present self: nicely dressed in a suit and polished shoes, neatly cut and combed hair, a warm coat hanging by the door, a countenance without shadows or fear.

The older Steve was simply an oversized version of the sickly boy, still dressed in clothes that were two sizes big for him. Snow was falling gently outside, and a radio in the corner was playing Christmas music.

Bucky was on the couch, casually munching on some candied popcorn from a tin he held in his lap. He offered some to Steve, who sat on his mother’s old rocker close by, but he declined. 

The radio program changed to news about some kind of a war going on. Bucky perked an ear, and even Steve lifted his drooping head a little. The announcement ended, and Steve got up and turned off the radio. He then looked out the window and sighed at the falling snow.

“You wanna do it?” asked Bucky.

“Do what?” said Steve, his deep voice belying his shriveled figure.

Bucky snorted. “Enlist, of course.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “When do you want to do it?”

“Day after tomorrow,” said Bucky. “I promised my mother I’d wait until after Christmas.”

Steve smiled. “I’m surprised she didn’t make you wait until after New Year’s.”

“She knows she couldn’t make me wait that long,” he said, smiling eagerly. “Of course, you probably won’t be good for much more than moral support while I sign my life away.”

“You’re probably right.”

Bucky placed his popcorn tin on the couch and leaned over. “Yeah. Maybe I’m asking too much of you. You don’t have to go with me.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“No, please, you don’t.”

“I’d rather just give it a shot than not try at all,” said Steve, looking at Bucky over his bony nose. “Worst that could happen is they’d probably reject me. But they’ve got to at least have something that a guy like me can do. If they’re serious about needing all the help they can get -- “

“All right, all right,” Bucky waved his arms. He stood up. “You can tag along if you’d like. Well, I should probably get home before this snow gets any worse.” He stood up. “You still coming for dinner tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged. 

“I’ll see you then,” said Bucky. He slung his coat over his shoulders and opened the door.

“Hey,” said Steve.

Bucky stopped and turned to look at him.

“Merry Christmas,” said Steve, giving Bucky half a smile.

Bucky gave him a broad grin. “Merry Christmas, you punk.” He stepped out into the cold winter night.

The Ghost of Christmas Past walked out of the door after the memory as it faded into shadow. He followed without comment, and he took her hand.

The next Christmas scene was in the streets of a city. There was his past self again, in an officer’s uniform, leading a young, giggling blonde by the hand down an alleyway. They passed a poster of a saluting Captain America mounted on a wall. 

The young army officer and the girl leaned against a wall under a fire escape and began passionately kissing. And then the spirit took him to another scene.  
They were in a smoky bar with a low ceiling, underground, perhaps. Most of the people in the establishment were men, and most of these men were wearing uniforms of some kind. In the corner he saw his past self talking to another officer. He was seated on the table while his friend was on a chair.

He knew that the other man in the officer’s uniform was Captain America, but for the first time he realized that he had the same bony nose and broad face as the skinny boy from Brooklyn. 

“It’s good beer they have over here in England, isn’t it?” said Bucky, happily sipping from a mug. “Even with all the rationing, it still doesn’t taste half-bad.”

“Nope,” said Steve, shaking his head. He lifted his tankard to take a draft, but Bucky interrupted him.

“Now, Steve, before you go downing that all in one go,” said Bucky, “I want to propose a little toast. Just the two of us.” 

“You don’t say,” said Steve. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, the occasion is, simply, Christmas, but the fact of the matter is, I wouldn’t be here to celebrate if you hadn’t pulled me out of that Hydra base.”

“Ah, naw, don’t get started on that again,” said Steve, trying to brush him off.

“I mean it, Steve,” Bucky insisted. “If it wasn’t for you, I would probably not have lived to enjoy this fine Christmas day at all. And what’s more,” Bucky said, reaching to a bundle that was stashed on the seat of a chair beside him, “I want you to have this: it’s part of the Christmas package my mom sent. If it wasn’t for you, she’d have gotten a condolence letter instead of that postcard I got her at Oxford.”

“Oh, Bucky, really, you shouldn’t,” Steve guffawed modestly, trying to brush the bundle away.

“Come on, man, everybody else is so anxious to bestow the laurels on Captain America, but nobody really thinks to give him some homemade fudge, or salt-water taffy, or popcorn, and he doesn’t have a mother at home who’s anxiously knitting him socks and scarves all the time. I’ve got plenty to spare.”

“Well, the fact of the matter is, you do have a mother,” said Steve, “and you should be grateful for her.”

“There you go again, sermonizing on me like I was a little boy at church. You know what, I think that serum they put in you got into your head a little. You didn’t used to be this preachy.”

Steve gave a snort of laughter, spitting a little, and Bucky rocked back and forth with him at his own comment. 

“Well, how do I know that they didn’t put something into you that’s made you so annoying all of a sudden?” Steve commented.

Bucky laughed. “I thought you said earlier that I was just as annoying as usual?”

“Could be both,” said Steve.

“Well, anyway,” said Bucky, “I want to wish you a merry Christmas, and I hope that next year you continue to rise above the life of a humble chorus girl.”

“Yes, and we’ll take down Hydra together.”

“Exactly. To the end of the line!” Their glasses clinked, and they drank. 

“Well, I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” said Bucky. 

“Do you want to go out and get some fresh air?” asked Steve.

“Naw, it’s cold outside. Let’s go find a dance hall and toss some wenches!”

“Toss some--what?” Steve looked up at him, suddenly growing nervous.

“Wenches! Geez, they gave you arms of steel, but they couldn’t give you any nerves. Now let’s go get our coats, and you can put on your new scarf and mittens when we go outside.”

“What if the mittens don’t fit?”

“They’ll stretch.” Bucky got up off the table and Steve stood up, and together they exited the room, leaving a hefty tip on the table and taking their coats at the door before stepping out into the night. 

He smiled quietly to himself as he and the spirit watched them depart. He even gave a little sniff of laughter.

“He was right, wasn’t he, about me?” he asked the Spirit.

The Ghost nodded at him. “He was only in jest.” She smiled, but her smile was slow and sad and longing.

The barroom vanished before their eyes in the golden flame, and was replaced with a large, gray room that looked like a storage space of some sort. He shuddered when he recognized the skull and tentacle logo of Hydra on some of the items in the room.

The two young officers were there, but with them was a woman with dark, curly hair. The three of them were tied back-to-back in the center of the room and seated on chairs. Captain America was recognizable in his distinctively colored field uniform, and the younger Bucky wore a blue coat and dark pants. The woman wore a jacket and trousers of brown. 

“Refresh my memory,” said Bucky, “how did we end up in this again?”

“Let’s see,” said Captain Rogers, looking at nothing in particular on the wall as he prepared to speak. “You practically jumped when you heard that Hydra was setting up a new base around here. You wanted to get it blown to smithereens as soon as possible, and you somehow got it into your head that you wanted it done by Christmas Eve. Is that about right?”

“If I recall correctly,” said Bucky, “you were just as eager as I was to get the job done. Isn’t that right, Peggy?”

“You were both eager,” said the woman, who had a very cool British accent. “Colonel Phillips said to leave it until the day after, but I encouraged him to let you go.” She gave a sigh of exasperation. “And then he made me promise I would supervise you both personally. Ugh.”

“Well, hey, we’ve behaved ourselves, haven’t we?” said Steve.

“Of course we have!” Bucky affirmed.

“I should think the only nice way to put it is that you two got ‘carried away,’” said Peggy, looking at the floor.

“Aw, this isn’t so bad, is it?” said Bucky. 

“I guess it could be worse,” said Steve, “if you hadn’t gone off ahead to see where those Hydra scouts were going.”

“Yeah, and then you two waited instead of following me. It was bad enough we were already separated from the rest of the group. ‘You guys go back to base,’ you said. ‘Bring reinforcements.’ Steve, you know you can take any ten of those guys single-handed.”

“I didn’t want to meet our enemy unprepared,” said Steve. “That’s why I sent you ahead.”

“Right, and then they followed me to where you were.” Bucky sniffed.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Not a problem.”

Peggy gave a sigh of exasperation.

“What?” said Steve.

“Do you think they’re going kill us?” she said.

“I wouldn’t blame them,” said Bucky.

“Don’t talk like that,” said Steve. “I’m sure they’ll want to interrogate us first, get some information. Or maybe, you know what, they’ll probably want to leave us alone, since tomorrow is Christmas.”

“Hydra doesn’t celebrate Christmas,” said Bucky.

“Rather,” said Peggy. She sighed.

There was an awkward silence in the room for a few minutes, during which they stared at the floor, too discouraged to talk. 

“Not to...bring up the fact or anything,” said Steve, “but were either of you hoping for anything special for Christmas?”

“Besides the usual?” said Bucky.

“Well...just anything, really.”

“Well, I asked my mother for a new scarf,” said Bucky. “A yellow one, like the one I had when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure that’ll look lovely with your uniform, Sergeant,” said Peggy.

“I was thinking I’d wear it when I was off-duty, Agent,” said Bucky. “But...I wouldn’t mind a brown one, either. Yellow’s a hard color to get these days.” 

“A lot of things are hard to get,” said Steve. “I didn’t really want anything for Christmas.”

“Aw, come on, Steve,” said Bucky. “Cheer up. If you could get anything, then what would you want?”

“Well…” Steve thought for a moment, “I guess...just some of my mom’s Christmas pudding, I’ve been missing that for the last few years. But I guess if your mom’s package comes in time, Bucky, I wouldn’t mind some of her homemade fudge.”

“Me neither,” said Bucky. 

“And what would you like for Christmas, Peggy?” asked Steve.

“Me? Oh, I don’t need anything.” But her two friends urged her. “Oh I guess, it would be nice for Christmas, if I could just get a pair of nice dress shoes. To wear when I go out.”

“I thought you already had shoes to go with your outfit?”

“They’re rather old,” said Peggy, “and falling apart. I don’t really think they’d be good enough to dance in. But, a new pair of shoes, on the other hand…” she trailed off. She seemed to be looking over her shoulder at the wall, but it didn’t help that Steve appeared to be doing the same thing.

“Well, it’s not really doing us much good, is it?” said Peggy, “talking about what we want for Christmas. It might be too late for that by the time we get out of here...if we ever do get out of here.”

“I don’t think Hydra meant to keep us here long,” said Steve. 

“Say, Peggy,” Bucky spoke up, “is Christmas in England all that different from the way it is in the States? I mean, I spent the last two Christmases in London, fortunately, but I mean growing up, what was it like?”

“It was quite wonderful,” said Peggy. “I would go to see my grandparents out in the country. They lived on a farm. We would get mountains of snow to play in and go for sleigh rides, and every year I would get a new pair of mittens and a scarf and hat from my grandmother. And then--”

“Do you hear that?” Steve interrupted, perking his head up. There had been a noise of some kind of explosion outside.

“I do wonder if they’re coming for us,” said Peggy.

“Wouldn’t put it past them,” said Bucky.

There was silence again for a moment. There were further noises outside, mainly explosions and gunfire, and they listened to see if they could recognize the Allied artillery outside.

“Wait,” said Bucky, “are you two...holding hands?”

“We are not!” said Peggy, straightening up.

“Yes, you were,” said Bucky.

“Bucky, we’re all tied together very closely,” said Steve, “and we all have our hands behind our backs. Who’s to say we’re not trying to adjust our hands into more comfortable positions?”

“If by ‘comfortable,’ you mean in contact?” said Bucky. “Well, let me hold hands with both of you as well, since my hands have no better place to go.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” said Peggy, leaning away from him.

“Well, if you’re so comfortable playing Footise with Steve--”

“Buck, Footsie is something you play with your feet,” said Steve. “What do you think we were doing with our hands?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Playing ‘handsie’? Is handsie even a word?”

There was a loud banging on the door of the storage room.

“Who’s in here?” boomed a voice.

“Dum-Dum? Is that you?” Steve called back.

“Rogers? You in there?”

“Yes, I am!”

A few more bangs on the door, and in strode a deep-chested man with a walrus mustache. “Well, I’m sorry we didn’t catch up with you earlier,” he greeted them. He and two other men ran into the room and untied the threesome.

“We were just asking ourselves what we wanted for Christmas,” said Bucky. “Actually, we thought it would be a very nice gift indeed if you came and cut us loose.”

“Very funny, Barnes,” said Dum-Dum. “Now, let’s go give those Hydra suckers a Christmas to remember, eh? And by the way, Cap, the colonel has your shield.”

“Perfect, let’s go!” said Steve. Their friends who had entered the room handed them firearms, and they ran out shouting and hollering.

 

“I understand now,” he said to the Ghost of Christmas Past as the memory faded. The ghost made no comment. They were in Cody’s room in the Tanners’ house once more. “Those last two memories,” he explained, though he knew she already knew this, “I had already been captured by Hydra once. They had...experimented on me, done things to me. I was never the same afterward. I was in a lot of pain, even then. Steve thought I was just being my normal self, but even then, there wasn’t anything normal about me--was there?”

“Only what you chose to hold on to,” said the Ghost. “You accepted that you had changed, but you did not let it stop you from continuing to be his friend.”

“Well, I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” he nodded, “but I was just doing what I had to. We were in the middle of a war. There wasn’t time to deal with it.”

“And so is it always with tragedies that happen in war. But do you see now,” said the Ghost, “that that is how you may continue to carry on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You cannot change anything that has happened to you,” said the Ghost, “but you can change how you face it. You can accept that the bad things that have happened are a part of you now, but you need not dwell on them or let them bring you misery. Only then will Hydra have truly won. But to live more fully in the present, you need to accept your past, both the bad and the good. Your former life, your dreams, and your friendships: these were the things that brought you joy. They can bring you joy again.” She reached a hand to touch his cheek. It felt very warm.

“I don’t think so,” he said, backing away. “All of my problems now are because of what happened to me then. I can’t let my past dominate my future. I don’t want to be the person I once was, if that means I have to face what happened to me.”

“You have misunderstood,” said the Ghost sternly. “You do not have to be one or the other: you can create your own life by choosing the positive elements from your past and present.”

“How? By letting Captain America beat me again? I don’t think so.”

“Captain Rogers only wants you to be happy,” said the spirit in an almost pleading voice. “He is not your enemy. How do you not see that?”

“Look, I don’t need you to tell me what to do with my life,” he said, raising his voice.

“I am not here to do that. I only came to show you the things that once mattered to you--things that can help you again.”

“Well, I don’t need them,” said Bucky. “And I don’t need you to show me any more. That was the last Christmas I had, wasn’t it? Before they got to me?” 

The ghost hung her head.

“Well, there is no more I need to see, is there?” he said. “Why don’t you get lost?”

“Do not deny me now,” she said. “If you hide from me, your world will only grow darker.”

“We’ll just see about that,” he said angrily. He jumped and made a grab for the wreath of candles on her head. His metal hand closed around one of the tiny flames, and then the entire wreath, and the light in the room, extinguished. The Ghost vanished.

He sat on the edge of the bed. His heart was still racing from his angry outburst--from everything, really. He had just seen with his own eyes the memories of his past--at least, what he presumed were his. Or what everyone else who presumed his identity would think were his. He had observed them all secondhand, and it had felt less like a dream or an actual memory and more like a strange vision. 

But he couldn’t deny who he really was any longer, could he? The question, then, was what to do about it. He didn’t begin to know where to sum up the courage to go back to...whatever was left of his former life. His former life had been in a past so distant he hardly recognized today’s world compared to it.

He thought about lying down in bed to try and go back to sleep, but he worried that he would just lie awake worrying all night. He’d put up with enough of those nights on the street, but the thought of facing another one in a comfortable bed felt even worse. 

The darkness and silence after the spirit’s departure had left him uncomfortable. He almost wished he hadn’t put out her light. He felt alone without it.

Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a light coming through the crack at the bottom of the door. It wasn’t the hall light--the hall light would have been brighter. 

His heart started pounding again. It was an intruder, at worst a scout from Hydra come to recapture him. Perhaps they would do injury to the family he was staying with--no, he could not allow that to happen. He got out of the bed and opened the door.

He had never seen the house lit quite like this. The living room was still dark, but the lights in the tree, the Christmas village and the credenza had been plugged in. Strange, he thought, since he had unplugged them himself when he had gone to bed. And then he noticed that the candles that Jo insisted were solely for decoration were lit, glowing on the top of the piano and on the dining room table. And the scented candles on the kitchen window were lit as well. Only one of the kitchen lights was on, turning the bar and the counter yellow but leaving the refrigerator and the utility room hallway in shadow. It was still fairly dark, but the illuminations were warm and cheery, even with the shadows they still cast.

Sitting at the bar was a man, a man very different from the kind of people he interacted with on a daily basis. He was sitting down, but Bucky was sure that were he standing he would have been tall. His face was framed with dark, graying hair, and on his head sat a crown of foliage of some kind. He wore a voluminous robe of green velvet trimmed with fur. The man’s kind eyes lit up, and he smiled broadly when he saw Bucky.

“A merry Christmas to you, Sergeant Barnes! And especially since it is your first one since your liberation from Hydra, it is a very blessed one indeed!” He had a loud, booming voice, and Bucky was half-tempted to shush him lest he woke the entire house. But nothing else stirred.

And then Bucky noticed that the man had helped himself to the plate of cookies and the glass of milk that Jo had left out before going to bed.

“Are you...are you S-s-santa Claus?” Bucky stammered.

The man laughed. “Far from it, my boy! I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present! But you wouldn’t remember me, either, I’m afraid. But, good to see you, good to see you anyhow, Barnes. You look well, I must say.” He raised the glass of milk to toast him.

“But-but-but how do you know my name?” stammered Bucky.

“Well, it’s a process of elimination. The Winter Soldier can only be one of two people. And if you aren’t Bucky Barnes, you are, by default, the carnal offspring of Ignorance and Want. You don’t want to be that, do you?”

He guessed that that wasn’t a very good thing to be, and he shook his head.

“I thought not. Now, how are you enjoying your Christmas?”

“Um, it’s okay,” said Bucky. “I guess it’s better spent with these people than out on the streets.”

The new ghost nodded. “Good, better, best. Always consider that.” He wiped some crumbs off his lips and beard with his fingertips. “Ah, what delicious cookies. Well, I do believe it is time to go and see what your friends are up to.”

“My friends? But I don’t have any friends.”

“Nonsense! A man like you who gets around in the world, he certainly has a lot of friends. Follow me.” The Ghost opened the screen door and led him outside to the back porch. “We’ll go by time zone, eh? Now, grab my robe.”

“Your robe?”

“Yes, my boy.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” said Bucky, taking a fold of the back of the Ghost’s robe between the metal fingers of his left arm, “but what are you going to --- aaaagh!”

He yelled as the Spirit launched with him into the air, and the city lights of the Mesa metropolis went roaring away from them. They rose up into a cloud and the stars dissolved into snowflakes that whirled around them, and then they suddenly settled, and they fell, landing in the middle of a broad city square. 

As he caught his breath, he noticed that he was in a strange place, on one side a normal city skyline, but on the other an ancient walled fortress, and rising behind and around it were towers and spires, many in gold and white, and a large, palatial building off to one side with colorful onion-shaped domes.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked as he straightened up.

“Where are we? We are in Moscow, Russia, but I am not surprised you do not recognize the place. Hydra and its allies in the Soviet Union kept you a prisoner, sometimes here in this very city, and they never let you see it. Come along.” The Ghost began to walk in the direction of the city.

“But what are we doing here?” asked Bucky.

“The Russians do not celebrate the feast of Christ’s birth until after the regular New Year, but in the meantime, a friend of yours is out spending a night on the town with some of her friends. Let us go pay her a visit, shall we?”

Bucky had no idea who he could possibly be talking about. He followed the Ghost without comment across the square and down a busy street. There were all sorts of people in the crowd, beggars, cripples, rich snobs in fur coats, humble shoppers running around trying to hold on to their satchels. But as in the scenes of his past, the people they encountered in the present walked around them oblivious to the ghost and the runaway. 

The spirit led him around a corner to a side street, and then down this street to a narrow, dirty alley only illuminated by a gaudy neon sign. The Ghost crossed the threshold boldly, passing through the door like it was thin air, and Bucky was unsure whether he was more surprised that such a being had any business in such a dark place or that he was supposed to follow. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he passed through the door. The Ghost of Christmas Present stood in the doorway, surveying the room, and Bucky stood next to him.

“Now tell me, what do you see?” asked the spirit.

“Just...lots of people,” said Bucky, looking around the dimly-lit barroom. 

“Anyone look familiar?”

“Not really.” He squinted. He strained the noise of the crowd for voices to see if he could pick out anything. He was a little rusty in his Russian, he realized. But as he adjusted to the language, he picked out the voices of some women sitting at the bar, laughing and joking as they drank. They all wore tight-fitting or just-covering black dresses. The faces of one of the women, he realized, was familiar. The one with red hair and the small eyes. 

Bucky looked up at the Ghost. The Ghost only pursed his lips and nodded.

Bucky crept across the room between the tables, the ghost following him at a short distance. They found a bare space of wall not far from the end of the bar, and they leaned against it to watch.

“I don’t want to borrow your car, Anya,” the red-haired woman said in Russian. “Besides, don’t you need to get it fixed?”

“I do,” said the woman being addressed, taking a sip of alcohol. “But I don’t want to take it to Gregory’s. Gregory is a cheat, he said the last time he fixed my car the parts would cost me 500 rubles and then he charged me seven hundred.”

“Someone needs to show Gregory who’s boss,” said another one of the women.

“Or maybe,” one of them said, and she motioned for the other ladies to lean in closer as she whispered a very dirty suggestion. They all laughed, except for the redhead, who only drank as she watched their laughter.

“Didn’t I try to kill her once?” Bucky asked the ghost, pointing to the redhead.

“Watch and see,” he said.

“But really, though,” said another one of the women, “where are you going to find a cheaper mechanic than Gregory on this side of town? They’re all going to rip you off one way or another.”

Anya sighed. “I don’t know any. Natasha, do you know anyone who could fix cars for cheap?”

The red-haired woman, Natasha, shrugged. “I don’t know anyone who fixes cars for a decent price on this side of Moscow.”

“Aw, come on,” said Anya, reaching an arm over her shoulder, “you are so well-connected, Natasha.”

“Not as much as I used to be,” she said, smiling and looking away as she leaned onto the bar, gripping her drink tighter.

“But certainly there is someone around here you still know that could get us a good deal, Natasha,” said Anya. She was playing with Natasha’s dress sleeve and rubbing her shoulders as she talked. “Do you know if Ivan Gulyubov still works around here?”

“No, I don’t,” said Natasha.

“Yes, you do,” said one of the other girls. “Don’t be a liar.”

Anya had pulled down Natasha’s collar over her shoulder to reveal a large, red, angry scar on it. “Natasha, when did this happen?” she said, taking an interest.

“Stop it,” said Natasha, pulling her collar back up and slipping Anya’s arm away from her.

“What is it?” asked one of the other girls.

“It’s this new scar she’s got,” Anya announced. The others oohed. 

“Did you hurt yourself in America?” one of them asked. “Is that why you came back?”

“It’s none of your business,” said Natasha, sliding off her seat and downing the rest of her drink.

“Come on, just tell us about it,” said Anya. “We’re your friends.”

Natasha humphed and walked away from the bar, her heels clicking.

At a nod from the Ghost, he followed her into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Natasha had the sink running, and she was washing her eyes out. Then she turned to look in the mirror. She pulled down her collar to look at her shoulder. She examined the reflection of her scar in the mirror. She sighed. But then she pulled her collar back up, swung her hair behind her and walked away.

“Well, that was interesting,” said the Ghost.

“You’re not kidding,” said Bucky. “I gave her that scar.”

“Did you now?”

“Eight months ago when I still worked for Hydra. That was the first time I’d ever failed a kill mission.”

“No it wasn’t,” said the Ghost. “Hydra made you forget all of your other failures. Once or twice someone else may have escaped, but they weren’t as lucky as Natasha here. Come on, then, let’s go.”

The Ghost strolled out of the restroom, and Bucky followed him.

“Where are we going?” he asked once they were back on the street.

“You might want to grab onto my robe and hang tight,” said the Ghost. “We are going across the Atlantic now, to see your family.”

“Family?” said Bucky as he held the Spirit’s robe. “But I don’t have any --”

He was cut short as the Ghost launched him into the air. The world was a blur of spinning ice crystals and wind, and then it cleared with a blast of cold air. They came over an ocean to a great coastal city, and then veered sideways into one of its suburbs. They landed in the middle of a paved street, cars driving back and forth around them, tall buildings on either side of the street. 

“Where are we?” asked Bucky.

“Where do you think we are? I think our destination is this way. Come with me.” The Ghost turned to the right towards one of the buildings. The windows in the upper storey were lighted.

“Are we in Brooklyn?” asked Bucky.

“What makes you say that?”

“I...I don’t know. It reminds me a little of some of the memories I’ve seen recently. Of my past.”

“You are correct, my boy,” said the Ghost, “but I am afraid Brooklyn has changed quite a bit since you were last here.”

They stepped onto the sidewalk and walked around the side of the building to the fire escape. They climbed up the fire escape and the ghost showed him in through a back door to a warm kitchen. Then from the kitchen they entered a living room. Bucky half-expected the family gathered there to look up and greet them, but they paid no attention. The gathering was an extended family, two grandparents seated on armchairs in the corner, and several sets of parents trying to settle down their noisy children who were playing with new toys. One of the fathers had a nativity set in a box, and he was trying to pass out pieces to some of the older children. There were nearly a dozen of them in all.

“Who are these people?” Bucky asked the Ghost, wondering how he could still be heard over the din.

“These are your sister’s descendants,” the Ghost proclaimed. “Look.”

And look he did. There were two of the boys who looked a little like the younger self he had seen in the previous ghost’s visit. There was a little girl and a woman who had his mother’s blonde hair, a man who had his father’s warm features. Then he noticed between the older couple’s armchairs a picture in black and white. He moved through the crowd for a closer look. At first he thought it was a picture of his mother, but the face was somehow a little different. He concluded that it must have been his sister as a grown woman. 

“Settle down, everyone,” said the grandmother in the armchair. His voice almost startled her. “Do we have all of our pieces ready?”

“We’re ready,” several of them chorused. The other children were quickly gathered and hushed. The family was gathered in a circle with a small table in the center.

“I think we’ll get started,” said the grandfather after the commotion had died down. He opened a worn leather book on his lap and began to read. 

1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Cæsar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.  
2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)  
3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.  
4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judæa, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)  
5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

“All right,” said one of the fathers, a balding man with glasses, “now who has the figurines of Joseph and Mary?”

“I do,” piped a little girl. She had the Mary figurine. 

“Who has Joseph? Gordon? You and Talia can move your pieces now.”

“Got it,” said the boy holding Joseph. 

“And don’t forget the donkey,” said a mother. She was holding a little boy who was playing with a donkey. “You want to let Mary ride the donkey?” The mother guided the little boy to the table, with Talia attempting to put her Mary on top of the donkey. Gordon walked to the table beside them.

“Well done,” said the man. “Next, Grandpa?”

6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.  
7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

“That’s the part for baby Jesus,” said the mother. “Who has him?”

“Me! Me!” said a girl with dark hair excitedly, holding up the figurine of the cradled Babe. She walked forward and placed it on the table between Mary and Joseph.

The grandfather read through the story of the birth of Jesus from the scriptures, and his family moved the different pieces across the table as he read about the different characters. When they came to the story of the Wise Men, one of the older boys suggested that they needed a figure for King Herod. One of the dads produced an action figure of a vicious-looking monster. 

Bucky looked up at the Ghost only once during the reading and saw him smiling benevolently.

“Quite a fun gathering, wasn’t it?” said the Ghost when the grandfather closed the Bible.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“Well, let’s be off,” said the spirit, turning around. “We have another party to catch in Manhattan.”

Bucky gave a last look to the family gathered in the living room. He could see his own face, his sister’s, his brother’s, and his parents’ faces scattered among the features of their descendants. He wasn’t really sure where he fit in that picture.

The ghost led him to the front door of the apartment. Through an interior hallway and down a flight of stairs, they reached a door that led out to the street. But beside the door was a cork board covered with odd notices, and on one of them he saw a picture of himself. His heart nearly stopped. He peered closer for a look. The picture of him looked like a drawing. There was text underneath, but he couldn’t read it.

“Are you coming, Barnes?” asked the Ghost, who was already halfway down the outside steps.

“Did you see this?” Bucky said, pointing to the sign with his picture.

“Yes,” said the ghost, urging him to follow.

“What is it?”

“That is a missing persons sign,” said the spirit. “Steve Rogers wrote one up for you and gave a copy to everyone he could think of--including your sister’s relatives. Their manager was nice enough to let them use the community notice board. Here we go.”

Bucky grabbed the spirit’s robe and they went flying through the air. The buildings they passed were three to ten stories tall and got bigger as they flew onward. They crossed a river and came to the center of a glittering city. One of the tallest buildings there, an oblong-shaped tower with a gigantic letter A on it, had a large balcony outside it, and that was where they landed.

“What is this place?” Bucky asked as they walked across a catwalk, feeling a little vertigo from being up so high.

“Stark Tower--where some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s biggest patrons are having a little Christmas Eve gathering.” They slid through the glass doors like the figments they were and entered a lavish penthouse.

Seated on elaborate furniture by one of the large windows overlooking the city, there was a man with a goatee, a red-haired woman in a purple cocktail dress, a dark-haired woman, a black guy, and a man with graying curly hair and glasses.

“All right,” said the man with the goatee, who was mixing some slips of paper in a bowl, “everyone pick a number.”

He passed the bowl to the redhead, who took a slip of paper from the bowl and passed it to the dark-haired woman.

“This game is usually much more entertaining with more people,” she said, sighing as she drew a paper. She passed it to the black guy.

“We’ll make it entertaining,” said the goatee man.

The man with glasses placed the bowl on an end table. The goatee man drew the final slip. “Now who has number one?”

“I’ve got it,” said the black guy.

“You’re just gonna make it harder for the rest of us,” said the dark-haired woman.

“Cheer up, Maria,” said the redhead.

The black guy took a large, square package wrapped in shining paper and a festive bow. “This one looks safe,” he said with a smile. He removed the ribbon and tore off the packaging. It was a box depicting an odd-looking potted plant on the front. The ladies oohed.

“An Iron Man chia pet?” said the black guy. “Really?”

The goateed man shrugged. “It could be an War Machine one, if you wanted.”

“You think?”

“Okay, it’s a bit of a stretch.”

The man broke down laughing. “A stretch? Whatever, Tony.”

“Hm, I might want to steal that from you, Rhodey,” said the redhead.

“You’re welcome to go ahead and take it, if you wanted to,” said Rhodey.

“Oh, it’s not my turn yet.”

“Pepper, sweetie, you weren’t seriously thinking of putting that in our sunroom, were you?”

“I was going to take it back to Malibu,” she said. 

“Don’t give her ideas, Stark,” said the man with glasses.

“Who’s next?” said Tony.

“I am,” said the dark-haired woman, Maria. She grabbed a fancy bag stuffed with tissue paper. The first thing she pulled out was a three-pronged flashlight. “A flashlight. How practical,” she said. 

“Is there more?” asked the redhaired woman.

“I think so.”

The man in glasses watched expectantly as Maria reached into the bag and retrieved something from the tissue paper.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Is that silly string?” asked Rhodey.

“No, it’s a buck bomb,” said the man with glasses, grinning broadly. “You attract bucks with it.”

“Whhhhat?” said Maria.

“Let me see that,” said Tony, taking the bottle. “Bruce, where did you get this?”

“Some redneck store on 7th Avenue,” he said. 

“You mean the Duck Dynasty Emporium?” asked the redhead.

“You bought it just to be ironic?” said Tony.

“Well, yeah.”

“How does this work?” asked Maria, standing up to examine the bottle.

“The guy at the store explained it to me,” said Bruce. “You shake it and hit the button, and then you come back after a little while, and all the bucks will be attracted to the smell.”

“I need this,” Tony breathed.

“Tony, NO!” said the redhead.

“Are you number three?” asked Maria.

“Yes I am, actually.”

“Can I keep the flashlight?”

“Rules are rules, Hill.”

Maria sulkily handed him the fancy flashlight.

“Come on, man,” said Rhodey. “She needs it more than you do. She’s the one who doesn’t have a dating life.”

“And what am I, a monk?” asked Bruce.

“Draw another one,” said Tony. Maria bent down to pick up a long package wrapped in blue-striped paper. Inside it was a strange object, a kind of short bow with a round lobe at each end, and there was a cord dangling from it. 

“Oh,” said Maria, a little speechless. “But, Tony, is this some kind of a joke?”

Rhodey started laughing. 

The red-haired woman leaned in for a closer look. “Oh, I get it!” she said, laughing. “It’s a thing you can attach to your cell phone, so you can pretend you’re talking on one of those old phones!” Everyone in the circle laughed.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What is this sorcery? Hmph, all right, who’s number four?”

“That’s me,” said Bruce, picking up a small box. He unwrapped it to reveal a mug with the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on it. “What?” he said, almost gagging. “Considering my history with S.H.I.E.L.D., am I really the one drawing this?”

The redhead and the black guy laughed.

“I was cleaning out my apartment,” said Maria. “It was either this one or the Mickey Mouse mug.”

“I would have liked Mickey Mouse better.”

“Well, I didn’t know who’d be getting it,” Maria defended, crossing her arms. 

“Pepper, you’re up,” said Tony.

“Pepper, would you like a nice mug?” said Bruce, holding it up to her.

“No,” said the redhead. “We all drink from the same glasses, I think I’m going to end up using it anyway.” Pepper took the final package from the circle. Opening it, she pulled out an object that was rather like a short wand with two rattles on the end.

“What is that?” asked Maria.

“It’s a castanet,” said Pepper, clicking it.

“It’s a wand, too,” said Rhodey, “and it lights up.”

“It glows?” asked Pepper, examining it. “How does it do that? is there a switch?”

“Near the bottom.”

Maria examined the rattle with her. “Here,” she said, finding the button. The bottom and top center of the wand glowed in shades of green, yellow, blue, and orange.

“All right,” said Pepper, shaking the glowing rattle. “That’s exciting!”

“So does anybody want to steal?” said Tony.

“I’m good, thanks,” said the Rhodey, patting his Chia Pet box.

“Pepper, I’m taking your castanet,” said Bruce.

“No!” said Pepper.

“Come on, humor me,” said Bruce. “I might get angry.”

Pepper groaned. “All right, fine.” 

Bruce walked across to give Pepper his mug. 

“Maria, you can have your flashlight back,” said Tony. “And the buck bomb.”

“Sure, thanks,” she said, trading her phone for the items.

“Tony, are you really taking that?” said Pepper.

“Believe me, I am,” said Tony, “but I’m not going to keep it.”

“You’re not?” said Pepper as she and Maria and Tony got up and walked over to a bar on the near side of the room.

“I am not,” said Tony. “I am going to re-wrap it, and then give it to Rogers when he comes over tomorrow.”

Rhodey laughed loudly.

“Well, that’ll sure please him,” said Maria.

“Tony, you know better than that!” said Pepper.

“I do, which is why I’m going to do it anyway.” He went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine and some glasses and started pouring.

“Dude, how many times do I gotta tell you,” said Bruce from the couch, “don’t push it with him.”

“But Steve is so entertaining to watch,” said Tony, “especially when his buttons are pushed.”

“Oh, he’ll get it,” said Pepper. “I have faith in him. He’s been doing so much better.”

“Well, yeah, he was doing better,” said Tony, “until earlier this year. I think meeting the Winter Soldier traumatized him. A little too much.”

“Hey, don’t be pulling on that string,” said Rhodey. 

“And you know what? I don’t really think the Winter Soldier is his friend,” said Tony. “There’s not enough evidence.”

“Oh, Tony, don’t be ridiculous,” said Pepper, taking her glass. “There is plenty of evidence.”

“I know,” said Tony, sipping his liquor.

“You just don’t want to believe it, do you?” 

“What I take issue with is the fact that Rogers is so uptight about it,” said Tony. “I mean, why is he on some wild goose chase after a guy that doesn’t want to be found? Clearly.”

“Well, maybe he thinks the Winter Soldier will lead him to the Hydra,” said Rhodey.

“That’s what S.H.I.E.L.D. was told,” said Tony.

“Indeed,” said Maria, sipping her beverage.

“You know, it would be funny, though,” Tony added, an amused look on his face. “If he did bring the Winter Soldier home with him. If they came over to Stark Tower next Christmas, we could get Bucky a set of fridge magnets for his arm.”

Pepper nearly spat her drink. Rhodey laughed uproariously. Maria looked for a minute as though she might choke.

“You’re really toeing the line here, Tony,” said Bruce.

“I’ve seen enough,” Bucky said to the Ghost of Christmas Present.

“Quite,” said the spirit, and they left the room together. 

Bucky didn’t ask the Spirit where they were headed next, but they flew over the city, away from its central spires and to its outskirts once again. He was a little surprised when they landed on the side of another apartment building. They were standing on a small ledge carved into the side.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Have a look,” said the Ghost, indicating the window.

Bucky looked through the window, and he could see and hear through it as clearly as if he were inside. There was a family, a tall woman in heels and skinny jeans, and two children, a boy and a girl. There was a man with them who appeared to be an uncle. There were two other people in the room, seated on the couch, both older, an overweight woman with blonde hair and a man wearing a heavy jacket in spite of the warm interior. 

Sam held out his hands to his niece and nephew. “Now, which hand is holding the quarter?”

“Do we really get to keep it if we find it, Sam?” asked the boy skeptically.

“Do you still not trust me?” said Sam.

“How do we even know it’s in one of your hands?” said the girl.

“Clara, you just have to trust me. Why is it so hard for you to take my word for it?”

“Because the last time we did this you said the coin was in your hands, and it wasn’t.”

“Just play along. It’s only a game. Now, which hand do you think it’s in?”

Clara frowned. “Your right.”

“And Curtis?”

“Your left,” said the boy.

“Okay, if you say so,” said Sam. He opened his palms.

“What?” said Curtis.

“You were lying!” said Clara.

“Are you sure?” said Sam. “You haven’t looked closer yet.”

“I don’t see how looking closer will make a difference,” said Clara stubbornly.

“Are you sure?” said Curtis, taking his left hand and looking over it back and forth and sideways.

“I am sure,” said Sam. “Why don’t you check behind my ears? It was there the last time.”

“I still don’t believe you, Sam,” said Clara. “You keep lying to us.”

“Nope, it’s not behind your ears,” said Curtis, having finished his inspection. 

“Well, then why don’t you check my hands again?” said Sam. He held up his left hand in a fist, with a shining quarter between his knuckles.

“No way!” said Curtis.

“You cheated!” said Clara. “You used your pocket.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Sam.

“I saw you!”

“No you didn’t!”

“Mom, Uncle Sam is cheating again!”

“He does it every time, honey,” said her mother. “Just deal with it.” 

Sam laughed. “You can’t take a joke! You’re worse than Steve!”

“Where did he take off to, anyhow?” said the fat lady on the couch.

“He’s still in the kitchen, I think,” said the children’s mother. “Let me go check on him.” She got up and walked into the kitchen, which was visible through a narrow entryway in the living room, and she took some dirty dishes with her and placed them in a sink.

Bucky hadn’t noticed him until that moment.

“Is that him?” he asked the Ghost.

“It is indeed.”

He leaned closer to the window. Captain America was there all right, stirring a pot of something on the stove.

“How’s the popcorn coming?” Carrie asked him.

“Oh, it’s almost ready,” said Steve, stirring with a spatula. 

“Did the oven timer go off?” she asked him.

“I don’t think so.” He moved away from the oven. She opened the oven door. “I think those ought to be ready.” She took an oven mitt and pulled out the tray, placing it on the table.

“You can go ahead and put that popcorn on the tray, sir,” she said as she ladled the cookies onto a cooling rack with a spatula.

“For the last time, Carrie, you can call me Steve,” he said, turning off the stovetop.

“I’ll call you whatever I like,” said Carrie.

“As long as it’s not late for dinner,” said Steve. He took the pot handle in one hand and with the other spread the contents, popcorn swimming in thick caramel, into a waiting tray. “Man, I am so excited for this.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t get into big clumps,” said Carrie. “Spread it as evenly as possible.”

“Right. And how long do we want to cool it for?”

“Five minutes. It’s a lot more fun to eat when it’s a little runny.”

“I’ll bet it’s messier to eat, too,” said Steve.

“That’s the idea.”

Steve finished spreading the popcorn and returned to the living room.

“Hey, there you are!” said Sam. “I was beginning to wonder if you got caught in the caramel.”

“Nope.”

“Well, if it isn’t Uncle Sam’s best friend,” said Clara with a smirk.

Everyone in the room laughed. 

“That’s an old one,” said Sam.

“Is the popcorn ready?” Curtis asked Steve as he sat down in a chair.

“Almost. It just needs a few minutes to cool down. And your mom’s cookies are almost ready, too.”

“So tell me again,” said the lady on the couch, “what was that place you were working for? The government one?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” said Steve, “but I’m not working there anymore.”

“Oh, did you get laid off after the thing in April?” asked the man.

“I didn’t, actually. I just quit. They weren’t treating me very well. A pretty corrupt organization, if you ask me.” He said all of this very casually.

“Ah, sorry to hear that,” said the lady. “That’s gotta suck, if the company’s motives aren’t all there even if they give you nice benefits. You know, I used to work for a bank, once. But then I quit because I found out that the manager was holding back our pay raises.”

“Well, you only went through with it because there were better unemployment benefits,” said her male companion. They both laughed.

“I guess I’m doing okay, for being unemployed,” said Steve. “I put a good share of my S.H.I.E.L.D. earnings in savings, anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like they’re going to last forever,” said Sam. His sister re-entered the room, a plate of warm cookies on one hand and the tray of popcorn in the other. She set both down on a coffee table and sat down to talk to her friends. 

Sam picked up the plate of cookies and had one. “You want one?” he said, proffering the plate to Steve.

“I’m good, thanks,” said Steve. 

Curtis and Clara took some cookies instead.

Sam caught Steve glancing out the window into the night. Then Steve saw him looking back.

“What?”

“I just wish I knew where he was,” Steve sighed.

“Hey, it’s okay, man,” said Sam, patting him on the back. “You did what you could. I’m sure he’s found someplace warm and safe.”

“I hope so,” said Steve.

“Who are you talking about?” asked Curtis.

“My best friend,” Steve explained to him. “He’s lost. I’ve been trying to find him for a while.”

“I thought uncle Sam was your best friend,” said Clara.

“I have multiple best friends,” said Steve.

“Yeah, like, me and Bucky and that’s about it,” said Sam.

“Aren’t you friends with the Avengers?” asked Curtis.

“I am, a little,” said Steve. “But we don’t hang out that much, really, when we’re not out saving the world.”

“So who’s Bucky?” asked Clara.

“He’s one of my friends from the second world war,” said Steve. “Someone...some very bad people kept him alive. They turned him into a monster.”

“But how did you find him?” said Curtis.

“Well, they sent the monster to kill me. And he didn’t. He just ran away. So now he’s lost somewhere.”

“That’s so sad,” said Clara. “And he doesn’t have anywhere to go?”

“I think not,” said Steve. “I just wish I had found him by now, so he could’ve had a place to go for Christmas. I just don’t like the thought of him being alone.”

“But Steve,” said Curtis, “you must have thought your friend was dead after all of these years. Aren’t you happy that he’s alive?” Steve paused for a moment. “I would be,” he said slowly. “But he’s been hurt so much. And I don’t know if he remembers who he is. Him being alive is one thing. But him being himself...the fact that he’s not himself anymore almost hurts worse than if he were still dead.”

“But you should be happy that he’s alive,” said Clara. “And if he’s not with the bad people anymore, then maybe he’s better off right now. And he wouldn’t want you to be sad for him.”

“Besides, it’s Christmas,” said Curtis. “You can be happy today.”

“You think?” said Steve glumly.

Clara patted him on the shoulder. Curtis gave him a hug.

“They’re right, Steve,” said Sam. “There’s no reason to be sad. It’s Christmas.”

“I know,” said Steve. “I just wish I had found out about him sooner.”

“I know you do,” said Sam. “So anyway, what time are your cousins having dinner tomorrow?”

“At one. I was thinking I wanted to go to the old church in Brooklyn for their Christmas service before that. You wanna come along?”

“Meh, wake me up and we’ll see if I feel inclined to join you.”

“And you guys are having dinner at three, right?” he asked Carrie.

“At four,” said Carrie. “But if you can’t make it until later than that, we’ll wait for you.”

“There’ll be no need,” said Steve.

 

“So he’s just sad and gloomy on account of me?” Bucky asked the Ghost.

“That would be the foremost reason,” said the Ghost. “But it also upsets him that there is still so much evil in the world. He wants to stop it. But he wants to save you from it as well.”

“Well,” said Bucky. “And here we are, just watching him through the windows. If only I could tell him I was right here and get him to stop worrying about me.”

“I don’t think you could do that,” said the Ghost. “Right now you’re just as ghostly as I am. No one could see you or hear you, even if you wanted them to.”

Bucky sighed. “It’s probably just as well. So where to, next? Are we done here?”

“Yes, but the night is still young,” said the Ghost. “And there is more to see.”

Bucky took the Ghost’s robe and they launched high into the sky, among the storming clouds and the stars. Below them, they saw the scattered lights of houses and towns and cities smaller than the one they had been in, and then they made their descent towards what appeared at first to be a patch of darkness. Then a light appeared, and a house covered with Christmas lights and windows that glowed onto a snowy yard. Bucky landed with the Ghost of Christmas Present and watched from behind a tree. There was a family playing in the snow, wrapped in thick coats and wooly hats, and they grunted loudly with exertion as they rolled pieces of snow into giant lumps. The father directed the work and put together the pieces. Two of the older children, a boy and a girl, helped him back snow onto the body. The Ghost pointed to the girl, and Bucky gave a little gasp when he saw her blonde braid.

“Sara,” he said. “Sara Martin. How is she?”

“She is doing wonderfully,” said the Ghost. “Not long after you left her, she found a job offer at a clinic in Minneapolis as a secretary, and she is getting ready to go back to school for her master’s degree. She’s really turned around, you see, since you met her. And I think that was partly your doing. We can be off.”

They watched the Martins finish their snowman and then start on a second one. At a nod from the Ghost, Bucky took the ghost’s robe again, and they were off into the night.

The Ghost began his descent towards a large city that sprang suddenly out of the sea of dakness below them. They flew over the roofs of a sprawling suburb and came to rest on the balcony of an apartment building. Peering inside the screen door, Bucky saw a party going on inside. There was loud music and a twenty-something girl in an ugly sweater was singing into a microphone while her friends joined in on the chorus. Everyone had a drink or a bottle in their hands as they danced and sang and joked loudly. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked the Ghost.

“It’s a Christmas party,” said the Ghost. “But not everyone’s happy to be there.”

A casual survey of the room revealed a few people sitting in the corners leaning over their cell phones, but they were clearly not the subject of the ghost’s statement.

The girl who was singing sat down to the applause of her peers and shouts for an encore, but she declined and instead took a long drink of beer.

But then he saw someone else, sitting right where the person singing had blocked them from view. Seeing her face again for the first time in months both thrilled and terrified him.

 

Grace had reached the end of a very long and draining semester of grad school, so if she sat apart from her friends and didn’t say anything it was understandable. But then Tori Spelling got up to take the karaoke mike, she asked for requests because she was too drunk and confused to decide for herself what to sing. The overwhelming consensus was Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” As she started to sing, Grace got up to get another beer from the cooler, and she drank it in small gulps while Tori started dancing a little to accompany her performance. Grace was sitting right by the speakers and was nearly deafened, but all she could think of were the words being sung over and over again.

As she started to sniff, her friend Trischia came and sqeezed onto the couch between her and the snogging couple she shared it with. Trischia was the designated driver, so she could see clearly what was going on.

“Are you okay?” Trischia asked her.

Grace nodded weakly and tried to hold back her tears.

Trischia took the beer bottle away from her. “This isn’t gonna make it any better.”

“No, give it back,” she moaned.

Trischia stuffed the bottle out of sight. “Honey, can you just tell me what the matter is?” She stared intently into Grace’s eyes. “Is it Max? Are you still mad at him for dumping you?”

“No,” Grace blubbered. “It’s him.”

“You mean that guy you met at the homeless shelter?”

Grace nodded.

“Oh. Oh, oh, oh, don’t you even let that bother you. He isn’t worth it.”

“What was I thinking?” she sobbed, her tears flowing openly. Her mascara was streaking down her face. “I swore I’d never let myself get into a one-night stand with anyone, but then -- “ she broke off.

The song had ended, and with the music dying down the sound of her crying was filling the room.

“Hey, cut it out, will ya?” someone shouted from the far side of the room.

Trischia and Grace’s friend Margot came up to them. “Is everything okay, Grace?” she asked. 

“Is it that dope Max she’s crying about, or some other dope?” said Tori.

“She goes through a lot of dopes,” said a guy.

“He kissed me...and then he just left,” said Grace, almost incoherently.

“Who just left you?” someone asked.

“This guy she met at the homeless shelter,” someone spoke up.

“Wasn’t that the one she met back in September?”

“What a wuss,” someone said.

“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten over him already,” said someone. 

Grace just cried harder. 

“I haven’t heard about this one,” said Margot. “What was his name? Who was he?”

“Just some guy,” Grace gasped. “Just some guy. I try and I try, and I still haven’t gotten over him.”

“Clearly he wasn’t just some guy, then,” said Margot.

There was a knock at the door. Those who weren’t observing the spectacle that Grace was making of herself looked up to see the old man with a mustache and glasses who answered the door.

“Is this Junie Lock’s apartment?” the man asked in a gruff voice.

“Nope,” several said.”

“Never heard of her,” said someone on the couch.

“Sorry,” said the person who answered the door as they closed it.

Bucky felt something on the inside of him as he watched this scene unfold, something that felt like being punched in the chest. He looked away and watched the old man knock the door of the next apartment.

He couldn’t believe it. Here he thought she was going to forget about him, and she hadn’t. And what was worse, she still had feelings for him. 

And what made it harder to bear was the fact that he still cared for her. Even after all this time and all he had been through. 

“Can you not watch anymore?” asked the Ghost.

“No,” said Bucky. “Can you take me home now?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” the Ghost shook his head. “There is one more thing I need to show you.

The wind picked up in the trees, and they swept into it, flying across the land, over frozen mountains and prairies and wastelands to a small city farther north. Far more north than he would have liked, he realized when they landed. There were heavy icicles on the trees that made their limbs bend grotesquely, and six inches of solid snow and ice covered the ground in most places. The sides of the roads were walls of dirty slush. Though he could not feel anything directly, he felt cold just looking at it all. The sky was clear and the snow glittered beneath the glow of streetlamps and starlight.

Without a word, he followed the Ghost to their next destination. It was a small house, one-storey and brick with fake shutters on the windows. The Ghost led him off the front walk to a window that looked into a living room. There was a Christmas tree in one corner with a few poorly-wrapped packages underneath. In an overstuffed recliner sat an old man with his feet in slippers and his legs wrapped in a blanket. On a rickety chair next to him sat an old woman with her gray hair in a ponytail. The man had the air of one who had once lived a vigorous life but was now held back by physical pain. The woman had eyes lined with stress and worry.

Seated on a couch was a younger man with thick, graying hair who wore a black sweater and kept a wine glass clutched in his hand. There was also another middle-aged man who wore a black suit and white shirt, his only festive apparel being a black tie with an illustration of a Christmas tree on the bottom.

“Recognize anyone?” the Spirit asked.

“Didn’t I try to kill him once?” Bucky said, pointing to the man in the tie.

“You did indeed,” said the Spirit. 

“But how about those two?” said Bucky, pointing to the elderly couple. “And the man in the sweater? What have they got to do with anything?”

“You will see it is why the two gentlemen are visiting,” said the Ghost. “Watch.”

 

“We should at least be glad Miss Foster’s friend came back safely, what was her name?” said Clint, stirring his wine glass.

“Darcy,” said Coulson as he continued to pace. He paced a lot these days.

“Darcy. Darcy, right. I met her once. Bit of an oddball.”

“I like to think that Emily would be glad she died trying to help someone else,” said Jean. “It was all she ever wanted to do with her life, to give to others.”

“Jean, how many times do I have to tell you?” said George. “Emily’s not dead. She’s just lost in space. For all we know, she could still be alive.” He tried to stir out of his armchair, but Jean forced him back down.

“Alive, yes,” said Coulson, “but no longer in a place where we can reach her. And I don’t know if there is any reason to hope that she’ll come back to us. For all intents and purposes, she is dead.”

“Coulson, just let it go,” said Clint. “You’ve already suffered enough loss in your life.”

“I am letting it go,” said Coulson, but Clint could see in his face that he wasn’t about to.

“Hey,” said Clint, “at least we got you back this year.” He stood up and patted Coulson on the shoulder.

Coulson shook his head. “It isn’t the same, you know, without the person who made that possible. All she ever wanted was for all of the people she cared about to be safe and happy together. And now she’s gone.”

“But you can still carry on that dream without her, can’t you?” asked Jean.

“I wish I could,” said Coulson. “It just isn’t possible. It would never work out.”

“Don’t say that,” said Clint. He turned to Jean and George. “You comfortable, Uncle George?”

“I suppose this is about as good as I’m gonna get,” said George, giving him a thumbs-up.

“So when’s your next physical therapy appointment again?”

“Right after New Year’s,” said Jean. “The doctor is taking an extra-long vacation to Hawaii.

Clint cursed the doctor. “Guess I’d better go to Hawaii and give him a piece of my mind. Maybe an arrow to the back. Let him know how it feels.”

“Aw, don’t say such things, Clint!” said Jean.

“Naw, give it to him, bro!” said George.

Coulson lingered by a side table on the far side of the room. There was a large picture on it of a smiling girl.

Bucky suddenly realized something. “That girl, in the picture,” he said. “Who is she?”

“If you recall correctly, she is someone you did try to kill once, also,” the Ghost said, laughing softly to himself.

“Well, where is she now?”

“I thought you knew that,” said the Ghost.

Bucky thought very hard for a moment. The memory flooded his insides like cold water. “That girl...I knew her...she was…”

“Someone who shared a very unusual connection with you,” the Ghost said. “The girl was a being from another world with the power to sense the hearts and minds of others. She is the one who led you to the Loremaster, was it not?”

“Yes, yes it was. But what happened to her?”

“A very terrible accident befell her,” said the Ghost. “She is now lost in the universe somewhere, unable to ever return to this world. The old couple, you see, found her when she first came here, and they raised her like a daughter.”

“So her dying must have hurt them,” said Bucky.

“Well, I wouldn’t say she died, but you are quite right, they were understandably affected by the loss. And then, not long before her demise, the old man, you see, suffered a terrible accident. They were no longer able to care for their ranch in Southern Utah. They sold the horses, the cows, everything to pay for his medical bills and get them this little house where they are staying now, but those funds won’t last forever. And the wife has to work two jobs to support the two of them.”

“And who are the two people visiting them?”

“One of them is their nephew, who cared deeply for his adopted cousin. The other is a man who worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. with the girl. He loved her as well, and shared a very special bond with her.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Bucky, turning to face the Ghost, “you mean to tell me, that this girl came here from another world, and these random strangers are now suffering because she’s left this one?”

“It’s because they loved her,” said the Ghost. “They had very little in the way of an immediate family, but that is what this girl became to them. You see, my boy,” said the Ghost, turning him away from the sad scene with an arm over his shoulder, “it’s not how you are related to someone or know them, but it’s how you love them, it’s what you do for them that matters.”

Bucky had nothing to say to this, but as he nodded in confusion he remembered the Tanner family, who had treated him so kindly in spite of everything they had to put up with from him.

“You see, Bucky,” said the Ghost, “if Miss Emily Bridger had not been lost, she would be spending Christmas with them, and they would have had that much more joy together, even in their afflictions. Christmas is not about what we give, but who we give to. And we give to the people that are the most important in our lives.”

“But what if we don’t want them to give us anything?”

“Then that is where the magic of Christmas fails, when we refuse what is offered and fail to give back.”

They were walking down the street now, away from the house.

“So, where are you taking me now?” Bucky asked him.

“I am taking you to wait for your final visitor tonight,” said the Ghost. They cut across the street to a derelict-looking house, and then to an alleyway behind it. 

“A final visitor? Who is it this time?”

“Someone with a few more important warnings to give you.”

“Warnings? What am I being warned about?”

“Where you are going if you continue on this path, and what danger lies in avoiding where you need to be.”

“Need to be? I don't need to be anywhere,” said Bucky. “I’m a nobody.”

“Nonsense, everyone is somebody, and belongs somewhere. Didn’t you learn anything from your adventure with that Doctor fellow? In the great scheme of things, you really do matter. You are capable of love, and of being loved. And what did you learn from the last ghost, hm?” The Ghost placed his hands on his hips and squinted down at Bucky.

“I, er...I learned that ...well, I learned a lot of things, really,” Bucky shrugged. “It’s hard to express exactly what.”

The Ghost laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “That is the beginning of wisdom, my friend: knowing that there is more to truth than the mere meaning of words. Well, this is where I leave you. It has been a pleasure. I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. I hope that all you have seen tonight will not have been shown in vain. Take care, young man.” The Ghost of Christmas Present touched his shoulder one last time and walked by him.

“Wait,” said Bucky, “what did you mean by -- “ He turned around to face the spirit, but he had already gone.

He breathed in the cold night air just to hear the sound of his own voice in the silence. Then he wondered why he couldn’t see his breath, if it was so cold out. If this was a dream, why could he feel it?

A faint breeze flew over the housetops, and some loose snowflakes fell over and around him and landed to make tiny indents on the snowcover. There were icicles dangling from the roof of a home a short distance away. 

He wanted only to wake up.

The breeze grew stronger, and a pile of snow fell off a roof and scattered in a cloud. Out of that cloud of snow came a figure. It was white at first, but as he looked closer it turned gray. Whether the creature was male or female, he couldn’t say. The gray, tattered robe it wore covered its body completely, except for two thin hands that protruded from the sleeves, one of which grasped a cane topped with a wicked blade, both of which appeared to be made from ice.

He felt a cold shudder beginning in his spine, but then he repressed it. He didn’t want to show this creature his fear: it was not his place to be afraid.

The being stopped not two feet from where he stood and leaned on its scythe. 

“Let’s see,” he said to himself, keeping his voice even. “The Ghost of Christmas Past came first, and then it was the ghost of Christmas Present. Are you the ghost of Christmas Future? Or something like that?”

The Ghost’s hood was so low over its face that he could not see any expression, much less any features, and there was a dark space where he should have been able to see its neck. But the Ghost nodded.

“Do you not talk?”

It shook its head.

“Do you have something to show me?”

Again, a nod.

“All right. Show me.”

But he wished he hadn’t spoken up so soon. The Ghost lowered his right arm, and with his left arm he raised his scythe and tapped the butt of it on the ground. There was a solemn ‘clack’, and the wind began to howl and moan, and the place where they stood was engulfed by blinding snow. The wind shook him so terribly that he thought it would push him to the ground, but before it could, it died down. The snow disappeared. 

They were standing in an alleyway that appeared to be in the middle of a city he could not recognize. Dirty laundry, broken windows and bottles, and peeling paint were commonplace.

He looked at the Ghost, wondering what it was he should be looking at. The Ghost raised the scythe and pointed to a space under a blocked-off fire escape. Two people in tattered clothing huddled there beside a makeshift fire in a steel drum. Bucky could not repress his alarm, however, to recognize them as Rhodey and Maria from Stark’s Christmas party.

“So I escaped when the Hulk went after some military tanks,” Rhodey was saying. “Probably beat them to a pulp, but of course I didn’t stick around to see it.”

“And how did you manage to get here?” asked Maria.

“I was captured by some Hydra guardsmen while running out of the city. I overheard them saying that they were looking for you here.” He shuddered. “I’ve never hung around so many low-lifes in my life. But it was worth it. News travels fast in the underground.”

“But if they knew I was here, how long before Hydra finds out?” asked Maria.

“Dunno,” said Rhodey. “They never talk to people they don’t trust: just about them.”

Maria hugged herself and leaned closer to the fire. “It was so terrible, what happened. I can still hear their screams--”

“Hill, don’t talk about that,” said Rhodey.

“Sorry,” she said. She looked away from him. Then she spoke up again. “Did you ever find out what happened to the others?”

“I did, actually,” said Rhodey. “Rogers and Wilson went to save Clint, but Hydra--they sent someone to stop them.” He smiled wistfully. 

“Who?” asked Maria, alarmed.

“Who do you think?” said Rhodey. “Why do you think Hydra’s been making such a comeback?”

Maria gasped. “You don’t mean -- “

“They did,” Rhodey nodded. “So ironic. But Tony always said that Cap had himself set up for that one.”

Maria said nothing else, but tears streamed down her dirty face.

Rhodey returned his gaze to the fire, but then looked up when he heard something. A shadowy figure dropped behind a crate. 

“Hey, you!” shouted Rhodey. The person got up and started running away. Rhodey chased him, followed by Maria. Both of them fought the interloper, and then he was joined by two or three other people, it was hard to say in the semidarkness. Both of them were clubbed senseless and dragged away.

He wasn’t sure what he had just seen, or what the Ghost wanted to do next. The Ghost, as usual, said nothing, but he raised his staff and pointed. One of the men who had just attacked Maria and Rhodey was walking further down the alley. He guessed that the Ghost wanted him to follow, but before he could, the Ghost lowered its staff again and tapped the ground. Ashes from the fire that had been left burning in the barrel came blowing out and around at them. When they settled, they were in a dark room lit by a few florescent lights bolted to the ceiling. He thought the place looked familiar but he could not say for sure how. There were tables placed here and there in the rooms with men seated around them, pouring over papers, working at computers, talking, laughing, arguing, whispering.

The Ghost began to walk forward, and he walked alongside it to a room at the end of the hall. A man walked just ahead of them as if to show them in. He tapped some buttons on a padlock and entered.

“Good afternoon, Zimmer,” said a voice so strange and frightening that the average listener was at some pains to understand it. It was heavily accented, and at the same time it sounded metallic and hollow. 

And to Bucky, it sounded terribly familiar.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Zola,” said the man, addressing two people sitting in a corner. But as normal as he tried to sound, one of the persons he was addressing was quite unusual. He was made entirely of metal and glass, a set of legs and arms attached to a mechanical body covered with sensors and receptors and speakers, and in the center a small screen like a television. The pixeled image in the screen was of a man’s face, which was notably defined by a pair of very round spectacles. The other man was tinkering with the mechanical parts of the first.

“I trust you have come to give me some good news?” said Zola, the pixel face smiling.

“Indeed I have,” said Zimmer. “The last two leaders of the resistance have been captured.”

“Good, good,” Zola said, his smile so wide that the edges of his little screen cut of the ends. “You can go ahead and kill them. There is no need to interrogate them. What they already know we will eventually learn ourselves.”

“Yes, sir,” said Zimmer. “And how about the attack on Washington D.C. and New York? Shall I give the order to begin?”

“Nonsense, Zimmer, nonsense,” said Zola. “Let the silly civilians have their fun. Today is Christmas. Tomorrow we can give them the gift they have always wanted: the gift of a new world.”

“Shall we be requiring the services of the Asset, then?”

“No, let him rest for now,” said Zola. “He has earned a respite.”

“Of course,” said Zimmer, nodding. “I must say, sir, I am very relieved that you found him.”

“Relief does not begin to describe the feeling,” said Zola. “I was so worried about my poor boy, even when my computer had been destroyed, why, all the time I was being rebuilt I was constantly asking after his welfare--isn’t that right, Smalokoff?” the robot man said, turning to the man who tinkered with him. “But now, he is once again in his rightful place. After the attacks on the eastern seaboard of the States, we will use him to bring the other nations of the world to their knees. And this time, we will not lose sight of him, now won’t we?”

“We’ve got him good,” said Smalokoff, turning a screw in one of Zola’s robot arms.

“Yes,” said Zola. “Once again, we have control of the Asset, and soon, we will control the world. You may go now, Zimmer. And Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Zimmer. He raised his arm to salute. “Heil, Hydra!”

“Heil, Hydra!” Zola and Smalokoff chorused, returning the gesture.

They turned around to watch Zimmer leave the room, but then he spied something in the far corner. It was tall and looked to be a metal chest of sorts. It put him in mind of a coffin, even. But then his heart stopped when he saw the blue ice pressing against the window, and inside of it, a face--

His face.

He opened his mouth to scream but he couldn’t hear it. He fell to his knees and tugged on the robes of the Ghost, begging him, pleading with him to know that the vision he had seen was not true. The Ghost only pointed his scythe at the coffin of ice in the corner, and then at him.

“Please, I beg you!” he shouted. “Don’t let it be true! Don’t let it be true! I’d give anything! Let anything else happen to me, but not that!”

“Not what?” said the Ghost, but to his surprise the Ghost had a familiar voice. The hood had fallen off, and he fell backward in amazement to see that it had Hillary’s face. He also hit his head on the side of Cody’s bed. 

“Ooof!”

“Are you okay?” Hillary asked him.

He took several deep breaths. Hillary was standing before him, wrapped in her yellow bathrobe, and he was in Cody’s bedroom in the Tanners’ house. 

He felt a weird, swimming sensation in his head, as though he had just fallen a long, long way and then landed. He rubbed his head, and the he remembered that Hillary had spoken to him. “What?”

“Are you all right?” she asked him, kneeling down.

“Me? Yeah, I’m all right, I guess, I don’t know.”

“You were screaming like the devil,” she said. “Were you having a nightmare?”

“I guess so,” he shrugged.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, a slow comprehension coming over him. “Yeah, I’m all right, it was just a dream. It was just a dream! I’m all right!”

“Glad to hear it,” said Hillary, putting an arm on his metal shoulder. “Well, it’s time to get out of bed now. It’s Christmas morning.”

“Christmas morning?” he said.

She nodded.

“Christmas morning,” he repeated.

The only word that she could find for the look on his face was joy. Pure and simple. He smiled at her, and she could only smile back.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

They embraced. He felt like he had cold sweat all over his body, and furthermore his bedsheets were tangled and heaped onto the floor. 

Must’ve been one heck of a dream, she guessed. 

She had left the door open, and her father and mother came peeking in.

“Hey,” said Trey, 

“Is everything all right?” asked Jo.

“Because it looks to me like you’re having a hugging party. May we join you?”

“Of course,” Hillary laughed, and she and Bucky got up to embrace her parents.

“Merry Christmas, my dears,” said Jo.

 

The Methodist Church on Mill Street had been the one closest to his home growing up. The closer to home, the closer he felt to Christmas. The one old woman in years previous who had remembered him coming in the forties had since passed. Most of the people who came to honor Christmas at the old church that day were the children and grandchildren of his generation. 

Every time he came to visit that church he was in just as much awe as they were of the stained-glass window in the foyer. When the church had been renovated in the fifties, two windows had been replaced with stained-glass works of art that honored the men of the Brooklyn community who had served in the second World War. The one on the right was a list of servicemen, surrounded by an image of a soldier saluting. The one on the left had two stained-glass figures, one of Captain America, the other of his faithful sidekick, Bucky Barnes. They were as close to having saints as that devout Protestant community would ever have admitted, and Steve wondered if he hadn’t been found alive on the ice all of those years later if they would have been forgotten completely except for those two ethereal figures in glass.

The service began at nine o’clock sharp in the morning, but people still straggled in, some in their snow pants and coats and not even bothering to take off their outer layers, but some in nicer clothes of Yuletide shades of green and red. Steve hadn’t really known what to wear, so he came in dark khakis and a button-up white shirt, and he kept his jacket on for comfort. 

He checked his phone as he turned it to silent. Sam Wilson hadn’t messaged him. He had knocked on the bedroom door when he got up to leave for the church and had only gotten a snore in reply. 

The pastor remembered him from the previous three years, and the congregants greeted him politely whether they knew him or not. The family of the one old woman who had remembered him last year greeted him, thanking him again for his appearance at the funeral and the flowers and the card, and they asked him if he had plans for Christmas dinner. He kindly informed them that he was spending it with his cousins as well as a friend in Harlem, but thanked them just the same for the invitation.

The service began with a small choir singing “Joy to the World.” The pastor read aloud the story of the First Christmas, and as Steve listened he felt his own hope renewed with the angels’ visit to the shepherds. Then there was a string quartet that played, ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.’ 

And his mind wandered back to listening to a similar ensemble at that church, seated two rows behind that same pew, nearly eighty years ago, with his mother seated next to him and their friends and neighbors surrounding them, and Bucky across the aisle flirting with the neighbor girl seated a row behind him. That Christmas morning had been sunny and the weak winter sunlight had streamed through the windows like conduits for the angels. Today was cloudy and windy. The warmth of the memory both cheered and saddened him. 

It had been eight months since the fateful encounter with the Winter Soldier. He had promised himself that Bucky would at least be home by now, for Christmas if not Thanksgiving. There were people in this very chapel who were related distantly to Bucky and would have gladly taken him in, assassin or not. But now it was Christmas morning. Steve was by himself at that service. He could only hope, and he knew it was an impossible hope at best, that Bucky somehow remembered what Christmas was about and that it was a time of the year he had always loved, or at least he was in a homeless shelter somewhere or someone kind had taken him in and was taking care of him. 

The choir began singing again, “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.” He thought of Peggy. She would be spending the holiday surrounded by friends and family, but she would barely remember who they were or how she knew them. It seemed like every time he went to visit her she grew more feeble and her recollections more dim. It was as though as her memories slipped away, so had that part of him that had once belonged in a different time, to a different world. And that only made his anxiety to find Bucky worse, because if he could somehow help Bucky to remember, then that part of himself wouldn’t necessarily have to die with her.

He reflected on the last three Christmases he had come here. The first time, he had been scared and confused and alone. The second year had been right after the alien invasion, and the fact that everyone in the congregation had known who he was and had welcomed him had been elating. He had made an appearance at no less than five Christmas dinners aside from the one at Stark Tower, including stopping for dessert at the pastor’s house. Then last year had been quieter, and he had just quietly slipped in and out, but it hadn’t bothered him that much. But this year, things were different, because something he had accepted as gone had turned out not to be gone, and his own loneliness both comforted him and hurt him all the worse. 

The pastor began a sermon about the hope that Christmas was supposed to bring to mankind. Steve listened intently, searching every word spoken for some kind of comfort, some kind of promise that everything would turn out all right. 

Next year, he promised himself, next year, I’ll have found him by then. He told himself this over and over again as the Christmas service concluded with the congregation singing, “Silent Night.” 

 

With her daughter and her houseguest out of bed, Jo Tanner turned on the oven and put in the cinnamon rolls. As the house filled with the delicious smell, Jo and Hillary prepared the homemade cream cheese frosting. Trey sat down at the piano and played “With Wondering Awe” and “Up on the Housetop.” 

The plate of cookies left out for Santa Claus had been completely devoured except for a few crumbs.

After ten minutes of baking and fifteen minutes cooling, the cinnamon rolls were iced and served. Hillary and Bucky laughed at the sticky mess they made as they ate. 

Bucky took a shower while Trey put the ham in the oven and his wife and daughter prepared the side dishes for their Christmas meal: cheesy potatoes, jello salad, and gravy. The expected company for dinner that day was Jon and Marie and their family as well as Greg and Julia. Grandmother Agnes, thankfully, had decided to go to another son’s home for Christmas dinner. 

Hillary got onto the computer while taking a break from the cooking. The top post on her Facebook feed was from Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers:  
Just got back from the Christmas service at the old First United Methodist in Brooklyn. An inspiring service, as usual. Now I'm going to eat Christmas dinner with Sam Wilson's family. I really, really wish Bucky were here with me. I've told his family that I've found him alive, and they're going to keep an eye out for him, but if he were here today they would have happily taken him in. I just hate the thought that he's out there somewhere alone without anyone to take care of him. I really hope that he's somewhere safe and warm. And I really hope that he remembers what Christmas is all about and what it means to him. I have so many memories of spending Christmases with him growing up, but I don't need to spam your Facebook feed with that. If I could ask for one thing for Christmas, it would be for him to remember that, and to remember who he is. As for the rest of you, I wish you a very blessed Christmas.

Clint Barton: Dude, half of your posts these days are, "I miss Bucky" or "I wish Bucky were here" or "Oh my gosh if only Bucky were here." You think since it's Christmas you could give us a break?

Philip Coulson: Barton, that was insensitive. Steve, I totally understand your pain. I will keep my eyes open for him out here. 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Steve, he may not be as bad off as you think. But you can't really control what he's going through right now. You just have to keep hoping. He'll come back to you when he's ready.

Steve Rogers: Thank you, Coulson, and I am sorry for your recent loss as well. And thank you, Hillary, for reminding me. As many times as people try to tell me that, I can't seem to get it through my head. 

As tempting as it was to give Steve the best Christmas present ever, Hillary knew, now, that it was for the best that Bucky stay hidden for the time being. But there was no reason she couldn’t encourage the both of them.

“What time are we skyping with Cody?” she asked her parents as she logged off.

“At two o’clock,” said Trey. 

“So we’re having dinner at three, then,” said Hillary, “so when is everybody coming over?”

“Should be just before one-thirty,” said Trey.

Hillary, Trey, and Bucky pulled out the table extensions and covered it with a festive plaid and ponsettia table cloth. Greg and Julia came at just after one-fifteen. Jon and Marie arrived at one-thirty. 

“Merry Christmas, Granny!” Maddie shouted as she ran into the kitchen to embrace Jo.

“Merry Christmas, darling!” she said, picking Maddie up. “Good heavens, you’re getting too big for me to pick up.”

“She’s not too big for me!” said Trey, walking over and taking her.

“Grandpa, I got a present for you!” she said happily, waving around a little package. 

“Oh, wow!” said Trey. “For me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why don’t you put it under the tree and I can open it when we open the presents.” He kissed her cheek and put her on the floor. She ran happily to the Tanners’ Christmas tree and placed the package alongside the other gifts already stacked there. 

Toddler Tayson was placed on the floor, and his grandparents admired a new onesie he was wearing. 

Hillary had sat down at the piano to play, and Maddie bothered her for a moment, but then Maddie walked over to Bucky, who was sitting on the living room couch. 

“Did Santa Claus bring you anything?” she asked him, cocking her curled head.

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” she asked him. 

Bucky shrugged. “I guess he knew I didn’t need anything.”

“Well, did you want anything?”

Again, he shrugged. “Not particularly.”

“Santa Claus brought me a tutu,” she said, pulling up the lace of a pink skirt that stuck out from under her puffy coat. “So I’m a ballerina now. Just like my favoritest cousin Linsey.” She gave a demonstrative spin in her boots.

“Maddie, sweetie, I think you can take off your coat now,” said her mother, Marie, who came to remove the coat. “Is she bothering you?”

“Nah, she’s fine,” said Bucky. 

At five minutes to one, Trey logged onto the computer and opened the family’s skype account.

“We’re going to be skyping with my brother Cody here in a few minutes,” Hillary informed Bucky. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“This is the one in Germany, right?”

“Right,” said Hillary.

He nodded, but from the couch continued to observe the family as they huddled around the computer. 

“He’s calling, he’s calling!” said Trey excitedly, clicking the mouse. 

A face appeared on the screen. “Hello?”

“Cody, son, can you hear us?” said Trey.

“Can you hear us? Jo and Marie echoed.

“Sure I can!” said Cody. 

“Merry Christmas!” the Tanners chorused.

“Merry Christmas, Cody,” said Maddie, trying to elbow her way into view of the camera.

“Merry Christmas, all of you!” said Cody. “How’s it going?”

“We’re good, how are you?” said Trey.

“Doing great, thanks,” said Cody.

“Did you get our Christmas package in time?” asked Jo.

“Yes, I did, I got it two days ago,” said Cody. “The socks fit just fine, and so do the gloves.”

“Is there a lot of snow where you’re at in Germany?” asked Hillary.

“Do you have snow?” Maddie echoed.

Cody fielded these and several other questions with good humor. He promised he would bring home some treats and souvenirs for them including some real German chocolate. That led Jo to ask if he knew any details about his coming home at the end of April yet. Cody shared what he knew. 

“But enough about me, how are you guys doing?” Cody asked. 

“Oh, we’re doing great,” said Jo.

“How’s business at the garage, Dad?”

“Going pretty well,” said Trey. He launched into some general details. Bucky, admittedly, was curious, and he wandered over to look at the screen. The face on the other side of the feed was narrow like Jo’s and his blond hair was buzzed short. He cast a curious glance at Bucky as he entered view.

Trey noticed this and added, “And I’ve hired an extra hand at the garage. He’s come to have Christmas with us. Say hello to Bucky. Bucky, this is our son Cody.”

“Hi,” Bucky waved.

“Well, hi there, Bucky,” said Cody. “Is that a nickname or something?”

“Well, it’s--” Trey began.

“It’s short for James Buchanan Barnes!” Hillary interjected.

“You don’t need to tell him that,” said Bucky.

“Well, don’t you remember that by now?”

“As far as full names go, that one’s a mouthful,” said Bucky, “so it stands to reason why I’d be having a hard time remembering.”

“Clearly, you do remember what a pill you were in a former life,” said Hillary. “Sorry about that,” she said to Cody.

“She and Bucky have this love-hate relationship thing going,” said Trey.

“Oh, okay,” Cody nodded. 

“And if it’s okay with you, Cody, we’re letting him sleep in your room when he comes to stay with us,” said Jo.

“That’s okay,” said Cody. “I supposed it needs to get used.”

“Well, he’s planning on going to Denver in the springtime--you’ll be out of here by April, won’t you?” Trey asked Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “If that’s when spring is, fine.”

“He’s a snowbird,” Trey explained to Cody.

“Cool. Well, I hope the bed’s not too hard for you, Bucky,” said Cody.

“Thanks.”

Cody turned his attention to his brother Jon and his family, asking questions to humor Maddie and making faces at Tayson. Then he talked to Greg and Julia. Bucky returned to the couch: the family was fairly entertaining to watch. 

After about fifty minutes, Cody said goodbye, and the family hung up. 

“Granny, is it time to open presents now?” asked Maddie.

“No, sweetie, it’s time for Christmas dinner,” said Jo. “Can you be a big girl and help me set the table?”

Maddie nodded. Hillary and Bucky joined her and Jo in setting the table. Marie and Julia brought over the piping-hot dishes, and Trey carved the ham.

They sat down to eat, with Trey at the head of the table and Jo on his right, Hillary on his left, Bucky next to Hillary, then Jon at the foot of the table, and then Marie, and Maddie in between her mother and grandmother, with Tayson in a high chair behind them. Greg and Julia sat next to Bucky. Jon said the blessing on the food. 

“So, Hillary, enlighten me,” Bucky said as he scooped himself some potatoes, “your father says we’re in this love-hate relationship. How does that work?”

Jo smiled. Marie laughed as she cut some ham into pieces for her son. Trey pretended to be engrossed in his casserole.

“Well, let’s see,” said Hillary, “it means I enjoy being around you, but at the same time I find you very annoying. If I get any pleasure out of being with you, it comes at the cost of trying my patience.”

“Why, Hillary,” said Trey, “does that mean you’re glad that he’s here? Do you finally admit that?”

“I wasn’t admitting anything.”

“Yes, you were,” said Trey.

“Fine. Whatever. I guess I do like having you, Bucky. We can be frenemies.”

“Frenemies?” said Bucky.

“People who are friends and enemies at the same time.”

Bucky snickered. “Trust me, I am the last person you would want as an enemy. But I’d like being friends.”

Hillary smiled. She wasn’t really sure what had just happened.

Jon and Marie asked Bucky some polite questions about how Trey kept him busy at the garage. That led Trey and Greg to swap stories about their respective jobs, and Jon couldn’t really find anything from his experience to top that with. Julia asked Hillary about her work at S.H.I.E.L.D. as they were beginning seconds. Maddie interjected with comments about her preschool every so often.

“Grandpa, is it time to open presents yet?” said Maddie.

“No, it isn’t time yet,” said Trey. “After we eat dinner we’ll sing some songs and read the story of baby Jesus, and then we can open presents.”

“Aw, but that’s so long from now!”

“Eat your dinner, and it’ll be time before you know it,” said Jo.

When they had eaten their fill, it was time, Trey announced, for the annual Tanner Family Christmas program. Mudder the cat had watched the family eat dinner, and now Jo had Bucky prepare a plate of leftover ham and take it to the utility room for the cat to eat. Jo, Julia, Marie and Hillary did the dishes while the men played with the children in the living room. Maddie found a stray bit of tinsel from the tree that she tried twining in Bucky’s long hair, but he put up with the laughter of the others with a brave face. 

“All right,” said Trey when the dishes were finished, “who wants to go first?”

“I do,” said Marie. “Mom, if you’ll play.” She sang “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” to Jo’s accompaniment. Tayson kept calling “Mama” while she was singing, but everyone else listened and clapped politely when she was finished.

“I wanna sing!” said Maddie.

“Do you want Granny to play the piano for you?” 

“No, I can sing it,” said Maddie, standing in the center of the living room.

“What are you going to sing?” asked Trey.

“I’m gonna sing Jingle Bells.”

“All right, let’s hear it.”

“Pushing through the snow,  
on a one-horse open way,  
o’er the foos we go,  
laughing all the way, hahaha,  
Bills on bobtalls ring,  
making hear it’s brite,  
Watfunitis to ride and sing  
a slayding song tonight.

Oh, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,  
Jingle all the way,  
Oh wun fun it is to rite  
in a won horse open-way, hay,  
Jingle bells, Jingle Bells,  
Jingle all the way,  
Oh whun fun it is to rite  
in a won horse open-way. HAY!”

While she sang, she danced a little, too, swaying the skirt of her tutu. The grownups laughed and clapped when she was finished. 

“Boo,” said Tayson for no particular reason.

“Now can we open presents?” said Maddie. 

“No, it isn’t time yet. Let some of us perform, too,” said Jon. 

“Maddie, can you sing the song you learned in Primary this week?” asked Marie.

“Yeah, I can sing it.” She launched into a rendition of “Hark the Herald.” 

“Hillary,” said Julie when that was over, “do you remember the duet we played at the Christmas party with dad’s family last year?”

“In bits and pieces,” said Hillary.

“Nonsense,” said Trey, “you’ve been playing your part for the last four weeks, day in and day out.”

“Well, that’s better than I can say,” said Julia as she and Hillary got onto the piano bench. They played a beautiful duet of “O Holy Night.” 

“Well, that went better than I thought,” Julia said when they were finished. “Turns out all I needed to remember my part was you playing yours.”

“I thought you did wonderfully,” said Hillary, giving her sister a hug.

“So are you going to play anything for us?” asked Trey as Julia returned to her seat.

“I think I’ve got one that I’d like to perform. Been on my mind a lot this year,” she said.

“What is it?”

“That song from ‘The Grinch,’ ‘Where Are You Christmas?’”

“Oh, I’ve always loved that song,” said Jo, clapping her hands together.

“As long as it’s not Faith Hill butchering it,” said Marie.

Hillary played “Where Are You, Christmas?” slowly and thoughtfully, adding more feeling and volume as she approached the end, then quieting a little. When she finished, she got up and bowed.

When her family’s praise had quieted down, Trey turned to Bucky.

“Well, son, do you have anything you’d like to share with us?”

“Well, I can’t say I can really do anything,” he said.

“Think of a Christmas song. Maybe one of us can play it for you.” He looked at Hillary, who had remained on the piano bench.

Bucky only needed a moment to think. “That one song you were playing the other night, ‘Home for Christmas’ or something like that.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” said Hillary. She whipped open her piano book and began playing.

“Do you know the words?” Jo asked Bucky.

“No,” he said. But in a way, he did.

When Hillary had finished, there was silence in the room for a moment.

“Does anyone else have any requests?” said Hillary.

“I think we’re good,” said Jon.

“I think we can move on,” said Trey. “Jo, do you want to get the scriptures out?”

“Yes, dear,” said Jo, getting up. Julia and Marie followed her to the bookcase and they came back with a stack of Bibles. Trey, Jo, Marie and Jon each took one and took turns reading aloud the verses, while the others were content to listen or read along. They read the account in the second chapters of Luke and Matthew. Tayson had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms, but through the whole reading Maddie kept glancing at the tree and kicking her legs.

Trey read the last verse and closed his book. “Well, are we ready?”

“Is it time to open presents now?” asked Maddie excitedly.

“Yes, it is time, finally!” said Marie.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” said Maddie. “I want to open all of my presents first!” She jumped off the couch and raced over to the tree.

“Now, now, Maddie,” said Jo as Julia helped her off the couch, “wait for the rest of us.”

“And now grandpa gets to open my present for him?” said Maddie.

“Yes, it’s time now,” Trey laughed.

Maddie dug under the tree to get the present she had brought, while Jon and Marie began distributing the packages. Bucky remained on the couch and watched until Greg called his name.

“Hey, Bucky, there’s a present here for you!” He was holding a small box wrapped in green paper with a red bow on it.

Bucky shrugged and moved over to join the family. He unwrapped the box and opened it. It was a black leather pouch of some sort.

“What is it?” he asked as he examined it.

“It’s a wallet,” said Jo. “I thought it would be something nice for you to have.”

“But what is it for?”

“It’s for putting money and valuables in,” Trey explained. “You can put your identification papers in it, and that way you can keep them handy when you need them.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, giving a nod of understanding. He folded up the wallet and put it in his jacket. 

Maddie was tearing the packaging off of a new doll. Tayson had woken up and was playing with the discarded paper.

“Hey, Bucky,” said Jon, “here’s another present for ya.” It was an oddly-shaped object covered with red wrapping paper and some ribbon. Bucky attempted to untie the knot, but Hillary told him to just slip the ribbon off. It turned out to be a small cellular phone in a plastic package. 

“What’s this for?” asked Bucky.

“It’s a pay-as-you-go-phone,” Trey explained. “You buy the minutes on a card and load them, but I can set up the account for you and buy the minutes for you.”

“Will you take it from my wages?”

“Nonsense,” said Trey. “It’s our gift to you.”

Jo said, “He thought it would be a good idea if we gave you a phone so you can call is if there’s an emergency or if we need to get a hold of you.”

“Wow, gee, Mom and Dad,” said Hillary, watching them, “that’s awfully generous of you. You think of everything.”

“That’s extremely kind of you both,” said Bucky. Then his head hung a little as he added, “but that is more than I can ever repay you for. I didn’t even think to get you guys anything.”

“Aww, Bucky, c’mere,” said Jo, embracing him. “You don’t need to pay us back for anything. We just want to help you.”

“Why?”

“Because you need it. Hillary wanted to help you in the first place, and she couldn’t have done it on her own.”

“Look at it this way,” said Hillary, taking his hand, “your gift to us is allowing us to serve you.”

“Well, don’t tell me you’re doing it for that Rogers guy,” he said.

“We’re doing it for you, too.” 

It was not long after this that Maddie came up to Bucky. “Mommy said it would be a good thing if I got you something.” She handed him a horizontal package.

“Oh, really?” said Bucky. “What is it?”

“Open it.” He opened it, and it was pair of funny disguise glasses, complete with a mustache.

“What is this?” he said, laughing.

“It’s a disguise,” said Maddie. “Grandpa told me that bad people were trying to find you and hurt you, but when you wear the disguise it can help you hide from them.”

“Well, gee, I don’t know--” Maddie leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, ha, thank you, I guess.”

“And I have one more thing for you,” said Jo, pulling out a small, square package. She gave it to him, and he opened it slowly. It was a bright yellow scarf, the cheap kind sold at the drugstore, but Bucky still let out an audible gasp. He pulled off the disguise glasses for a better look as he unfolded it.

“It’s not exactly cold around here this time of year,” Jo said modestly. “But I thought you’d like it. And I’m sorry if the color’s a bit bright--”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, draping the scarf around his shoulders.

“It was the last one they had in stock.”

“But, Jo, I had one just like this, once. Oh, thank you!” He gave Jo a big hug. 

“All right then,” Jo laughed. “If you like it that much.”

Hillary had made a good haul that year. Julia and Marie had each given her a new blouse, and her parents had gotten her a coat and a pair of new tights. 

With the presents all unwrapped, it was time for dessert. Julia had brought a pumpkin roll, and Marie a cherry pie and a pecan pie. From Jo and Hillary there were two apple pies and two pumpkin pies and a fruitcake. The present company stuffed themselves silly with pie, except for Maddie, who only had a slice of pumpkin and then insisted on running around dancing to her new music, the soundtrack to Disney’s Frozen. 

Hillary took a slice of each of the pies and cakes, and by the time she was done she was even more full than she had been when she finished dinner. Greg and Julia stacked the plates in the sink and said goodbye to go join Greg’s family. Then Marie thought it was time to take Maddie and Tayson home for their naps, so she and Jon also left with their offspring and the gifts from their grandparents. 

The company was gone, and all reason for pretense was over. Hillary slumped onto the couch.

Bucky finished his last piece of pie and dropped his plate in the sink. “Man, I am stuffed,” he said. He walked over to the couch and looked at Hillary. “What’s up with you?” he asked her.

“I’m in a food coma,” said Hillary.

“Oh. Can I join you?”

“Sure.” 

Bucky plopped onto the couch next to her. Hillary’s eyes closed, and her head inadvertently slipped onto his shoulder as he nodded off to sleep.

“Bucky?” she asked.

“Mm-hm?”

“Can you promise me something?” 

“What?”

“Promise me that next year, you’ll spend Christmas with Steve Rogers.”

“Okay. Does it have to be unconditional?”

“What conditions do you need to make?”

“Well, what if for some reason I am unable to spend Christmas with him next year?”

“Well, if it’s an extenuating circumstance, I would understand,” said Hillary, “but really, you should be with someone who’s...well, a part of your life.”

“But that’s why I like being with you,” said Bucky, smiling.

“How come?”

“Because you’re a part of the life that I have now.” 

“So what’s so fascinating that you two are whispering about?” Trey said, his voice cutting into their slumber.

The both woke, startled. “Oh, it was nothing,” she said, and Trey left them to get some more pie.

“I got your promise,” she said to Bucky quietly.

“You can have it, then,” he said. “Do you think I’ll be ready by next year?”

“Of course.”

And they both dozed off again.


End file.
